My body is a cage, racked with pain
My mind is filled with rage
I seek an escape that I can not see
Oh, my body is a cage, it keeps me in my place
It tells me what I can and cannot do
– J. Allen Wilson, My Body Is A Cage.
“You’re okay, baby. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine…”
A nine year old Louis Tomlinson sits up in bed with a jolt in his spine and sweat on his skin. The
left side of his face is red and his hair is messy from the position he’s been sleeping in; and there’s
a mild headache tiptoeing across the back of his head.
He lies on a corn-coloured duvet. Prying his eyes open, he blinks, allowing the light and his
surroundings to seep in. His sight arises as a weird, icky blur before settling– showing a blank,
white room all around him, and alerting him to a placid clattering of rain against the window. It
takes him a minute to remember where he is.
“I know it stings, baby. I know, I know.”
Memories from hours before rush into his head and he curses, mentally, before drawing his legs
from under the duvet and tucking them up to his chest. He didn’t mean to fall asleep; but the pain
relief he’s given in times like these has always made him drowsy, and he often finds sleep a more
peaceful alternative to crying. When you’re asleep, you don’t have to respond to the attention of
the people around you.
When you’re asleep, you forget how different you are.
“Be careful, Boo. You could get hurt.”
Hah. If those words aren’t the running theme of his poor excuse for a life then he doesn’t know
what is. It’s not like he hasn’t heard that sentence a thousand times already in his short nine years
of life. It’s not exactly like he has the luxury of being reckless.
He’s always careful, alright?
Always.
It’s just that occasionally, there are times when he isn’t so lucky.
Times when he forgets. Times when he tries to be normal.
Times that leave him with his forearms covered in bandages because he held his baby sister in his
arms.
It all happened so fast. One minute, his mum was turning her back, grabbing a diaper from the
shelf and humming along to a song on the radio, the next, Fizzy was tumbling off the side of the
changing table and there was a baby in Louis’ arms. And then, a hot, searing pain ripping open his
skin, causing him to cry out in agony and fall to his knees.
His mum was by his side in seconds, reaching down to relieve Fizzy from him but Louis couldn’t
let go. He couldn’t open his arms, couldn’t release his grip until she was safe on the floor, and oh god the heat the heat the heat oh god oh god oh god —
Next thing he knows, he’s in a hospital bed. Which, really, brings him to now.
He looks down at his bandaged arms. He remembers he had been wearing short sleeves earlier,
almost like a defiance thing, almost like he could, almost like the false confidence they bring
would protect him from the rest of the world. There’s some kind of irony in it, he thinks, but is in
too low of spirits to dwell on it now.
He’d much rather stare out of the window. Even though, he barely leaves his bedroom here, in the
San Francisco Bay Area, maybe even less than he did in Doncaster now that he has so much
family awaiting him and when he says awaiting him, he means every time he opens the door,
awaiting him. It’s suffocating.
One good thing about staying in your room all day, though, is the fact that you hear almost
everything. It’s amazing what thin walls, a locked door, and barely any interaction will do to
lessen other people’s discretion skills.
“You can’t keep him in the house forever, Jay!”
“Homeschooling is hardly prisoning.”
“He spends so much time in the hospital already… He has to be around other kids. Look how
withdrawn he’s becoming.”
“No. No! I’m not putting my baby at risk!”
Good guy, his stepfather. Fighting for him to go to regular school. It’s just one example of many
in which he has stood up for Louis in terms of independance, and Louis likes it a lot.
Likes him a lot.
If only Geoff didn’t come with luggage upon marrying Louis’ mother…
…Luggage that walks.
Talks.
Laughs.
Struts around the house without a care in the world, comes home from school with friends and
praise and a smile so bright it’s blinding.
Luggage in the form of a son.
Liam Payne. In the ass.
Louis has had to share a bedroom with Liam ever since Fizzy was born, and, even though they’re
roughly similar in age, Louis still hates the bones of the kid. “Loam” gets to go to regular school.
“Loam” comes home bestrewn in achievements and well dones and merits and love. “Loam” gets
to go to parties and visit fairs and smiles all of the effing time because of it.
And it’s not sweet. And it’s not cute.
It’s super annoying, that’s what it is.
What does Louis do? Louis gets to sit scribbling on a sheet of paper under the attentive look of his
mummy, day in, day out. That’s what Louis does.
Crap.
Crapcrapcrapcrap.
Louis sits up straight in his hospital bed.
This accident is gonna set him back, that’s for sure. He was this close to going to regular school.
His mum was caving, he’s sure of it. She’s gonna change her mind again.
He should’ve let Fizzy fall on her face.
Maybe.
Not.
Crap.
Louis most definitely hates his life sometimes. And, as for Loam… No one is that happy.
“Liam, you’re his big brother! You were supposed to look after him!”
“He’s older than me!”
“You know what I mean!”
One thing that Louis can moderately stand about Loam, however, is the fact that he seems to hate
the situation they’re in as much as Louis does. Hell, they seem to be the only ones in the family
that do .
Louis looks up. Through the hospital door, he can hear his mother talking to the doctor, and
there’s familiarity in their exchange.
“Look. Jay. We’ve been through this more times than we can count.” Doctor Avery says, blinking
and monotone. “There’s no treatment. Yet. But science is advancing so fast. And Louis is only
nine. Who knows where medical knowledge will be in five, ten years?”
Through the glass, Jay’s face crumples.
“Who’s to say there’ll be no cure for Epidermolysis Bullosa by then?” The doctor makes an effort
to comfort her, but Louis knows this situation well enough to foresee how it plays out. “You can’t
give up hope, alright?”
“It’s so hard seeing him like this–” Jay begins, miserable and teary, but her speech is quickly
caught up in a sob. Geoff places his hand on her back.
“Hey. Louis is a strong kid.” He amends, from beside her, and Doctor Avery can only nod.
“What you need is a little perspective, Jay.” Doctor Avery continues, “He’s fine. The scars will
fade. And you know that there are more severe cases. Some of those kids can’t even tolerate fabric
or shoes, some have to live in sterile environments.”
“I know– I know.” She sobs. “I just want to be able to hold my baby in my arms, Doctor.”
Louis frowns; he hates it when his mother cries. He hates it even more when it’s his fault.
He’s been in these shoes before. Play fights, falls, high fives…same tears. Same shoes.
It never changes.
Allogeneic Epidermolysis Bullosa, also known as AEB, also known as the bane of Louis’
existence, is his cross to bear. It’s a subcategory of regular Epidermolysis Bullosa –EB– and it’s
just his luck, out of the billions of people on Earth, for him to get a rare incurable genetic disease
that only affects less than 0.0002% of the world’s population. It’s typical.
Suffice it to say, there are not many research labs around the world ready to find a cure for him,
and others like him. He’s one of the “Butterfly children”, as they’re being called, because their
skin is as fragile as butterfly wings, causing it to blister with contact to something resembling
second to third degree burns. It’s as nice as it sounds.
Granted, his condition could have been way worse, as pointed out by Doctor Avery. Some of the
kids Louis’ crossed paths with around hospitals through the years aren’t alive to tell the tale. He’s
considered one of the lucky ones– gifted with an allergic reaction to everyone else’s skin but his,
something destined to put him in a cage for life.
The worst cases of EB include not being able to touch yourself, or even ingest food. Yes, he’s considered by them to be lucky, almost able to have a normal life. It’s easy for them to say, they’re
doctors, up in high places, only having to deal with these kids for three hours of their day tops.
After that, they get to take their gloves off. It’s not so easy for Louis.
He tries to touch someone? Even a graze? He gets a violent allergic reaction, and scars to boot. He
rejects every skin contact he receives that’s not his own. It blows. And he’s supposed to feel
lucky.
The voices outside dim. The door opens. And then,as if by magic, Jay, Geoff and Doctor Avery
are waltzing in, smiles on their faces, springs in their steps. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out
that it’s all for show, and Louis is no idiot.
But he plays along with it. For now. Because he’s not quite sure how close his mother is to
crumbling.
“So, Doc? When can I get out of here? I have places to see, a brother to wrestle. A playdate with
my neighbours and their trampoline scheduled.” He jokes, faux serious.
“Soon, Lou.” Doctor Avery huffs.
Jay strokes the blanket on Louis’ leg like a good luck charm, imperceptibly sniffing, gentle, quiet
and close. Like it’s the only comfort she can offer him.
After Doctor Avery gives them the usual treatment plan, Geoff goes to get the car, and Jay stays
with Louis for a bit, reading the back of his prescription and not ceasing her sniffling movements.
When they’re finally alone, Louis can’t fight the burning urge to ask. It’s creating pressure in his
throat and a wildfire in his brain.
“Mum,” He blurts, desperate, “Please tell me I can go to school.”
Jay looks almost affronted. “Now is not the time to talk about this, Boo.”
“I’m tired of being a freak, mum!” Louis shouts, suddenly, eyes shining bright. He knows he’s
fighting tears. He can feel them, burning.
“Listen,” She says, patient yet resolute. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, baby, you
hear me?”
Louis shakes his head. He knows what’s coming next. He knows. And he hates every part of it.
“You’re just like fine art, Boo. People can look but never touch.”
“I know, mum.” Louis says, repeating the words for the thousandth time. “I’m the Mona Lisa.”
“You’re the Mona Lisa,” Jay repeats, nodding, satisfied. “Now put your gloves on.”
**
11 years later
Alright, alright
Everything’s gonna be alright
“Jesus Christ, Li!” Louis shouts, craning his neck from the backseat. “Will you turn your crappy
music down!”
“No!” Liam retorts. He doesn’t even turn around to reply, the git.
“East 17, Li?” Louis scowls. “Really? Are you a thirty something soccer mum?” “Shut up and enjoy!” Liam swings, bobbing his head from side to side in time with the music.
“Settle down, boys. We’re almost there.” Jay says, shaking her head. Endeared by their bickering,
she finally turns the music down.
“Jaaaaaaaay.” Liam whines, slumping his shoulders. “You love your boybands.”
“Meh. I’m more of a Take That kind of girl myself.” She bops her fingers on the wheel and,
pointing her index finger towards Liam, sings, “Everything changes but yooooou.
This is what Louis is stuck with.
This.
He lets out a deep, pained sigh before going back to gloomily staring out of the window, slipping
his headphones over his ears and turning the volume up for good measure. It won’t drown out his
thoughts, but it’ll surely muffle Liam’s happy squees.
He’s left in peace for approximately five and a quarter seconds before Jay perks her gaze up again,
dragging Louis from his slumbery paradise.
He doesn’t respond kindly to it.
“Louis, dear,” Jay says, an element of impatience in her tone. “Have you packed your first aid
kit?”
Louis rolls his eyes. It’s not like she hasn’t checked at least four times before leaving. Like it
would change anything now that they’re ten minutes from arriving.
“Yeah, mum.” He huffs, pressing his cheek up against the car window glass. It steams up from his
breath and makes the roads fade out into twisting, punctuated fog.
“Ohhhkay.” Jay over-exaggeratedly gapes, tapping the wheel with an extended index finger. “I
gather we’re not the Mona Lisa today.”
“Nope. Today I’m ‘ The Scream ’ .” Louis answers, glaring at Liam, who’s still happily bobbing
his head in the front seat.
“I thought you were excited to go to college,” Liam deadpans.
“I am.” Louis plays with his glasses in his lap. “Just nervous, I guess.”
“Everything’s gonna be alright!” Liam sings back, bopping his shoulders, seemingly already
forgetting the conversation at hand.
Louis grunts and pinches him with a gloved hand. “I swear I’m gonna be in charge of the music in
our room.”
Liam grins widely, slapping Louis’ hand off of him. “Not a chance.”
Louis lets out a short sigh and looks out the window once more. It’s bad enough that he’s starting
college at nearly twenty years of age. Dealing with Liam’s awful taste in music for another four?
Literal Hell.
But anything’s better than what’s behind him, he supposes. Living in and out of hospitals always
was the worst part of his childhood behind seeing his mum upset, partly because the only times
Louis was ever at the hospital was when something had gone wrong, but mostly because it held
him back in every sense. Mentally. Physically. Educationally.
Education is the one thing Louis cares about the most, however. Mental health? Physical health?
He could learn how to deal with those. The thirst to learn and grow and conquer? Not as easily
ignored.
Which is why Louis is here, right now, he supposes: he wants to learn. He doesn’t want to live in
a cage anymore, wants to break free, wants to feel air in his lungs and the first breath of
independence he has had in a long time.
At least, this is what he tells himself. He would be able to think it freely if Liam Payne– two years his junior and with teenageresque hormones– wasn’t plonked happily in the university cradle with
him.
And yeah. Louis did wait for him to finish high school so they could go to college together. But so
what? He’s sure plenty of other siblings do it as well, and minus the awkwardness.
Liam and he have a special unspoken understanding about the whole thing. Louis pretends he
would have gone to college alone given the chance, and Liam pretends to whole-heartedly believe
him.
It works.
Kind of.
Mostly.
But there’s no way in hell Louis is going to admit he’s scared. Never in a million years. He’s not.
He’s thrilled.
Yeah.
This is what he’s wanted his whole life, right? To be normal. To be surrounded by people. To live
his fucking life. Who cares if high school turned out to be a nightmare once he convinced his mum
to fly solo? Who cares? College is going to be different. It has to be. Karma kinda owes him right
now, okay? It’s gonna be a brand new adventure.
One where no one has to know about the way he is. One where he can blend in, for once, and not
be the complete and utter center of attention.
One where he won’t have to avoid the pity stares from the professors or the puzzled looks from
his classmates, the invasive questions or dumb statements that used to spring from their lips as a
result of what they know and don’t. God.
So you never get a kiss goodnight from your mommy?
How do you cross the street if you can’t hold a grown up’s hand?
Your gloves are dirty from the sandbox, Louis.
Why would you want to take me out on a date? It’s not like it could go anywhere.
Ugh. Let’s not talk about that last one.
The only reprieve in his childhood was Ed.
“I don’t bite, you know.”
“I’m not supposed to play tag.”
Ed hadn’t noticed the anxiety behind Louis’ words. “You look like the invisible man with those
gloves.”
Louis peered out behind overly big glass lenses. “I do?”
“Yeah! You only need some toilet paper on your face and we’re set!”
“I can do that.”
“Let’s play, then!”
Louis misses Ed. It’s a feeling that makes his chest feel weird, almost like it’s fluttering in several
places at once from under his skin. He doesn’t like the feeling, nor does he like missing Ed, but he
feels like missing him has just become a normal part of his life now.
After all, it is hard to keep up a close friendship behind hospital windows and unfortunate
university choices.
Ugh. If only Ed were with him now: Louis would give anything to see that goofy face pop up against
the side window of the car any second, or to be magically waiting on campus for him once he gets
there. But he also knows, quite solidly, that it’s not going to happen, a fact that brings him both
sadness and an unsettling feeling of loneliness that he just can’t shake from his gut.
So he’s starting new. Starting fresh. Taking another shot at being normal. Same new, same old, or
whatever the saying is…
“We’re here.”
The car heaves to a halt, shaking him out of his reverie. Jay has pulled it to a stop in a sun-
scattered parking lot just inside of the main entrance, which sits them nicely in the middle of a
clean, spray-fresh lawn and a whole host of trees.
The College is clean and symmetrical, almost to the point where it gets a little weird– even the
bushes trimmed to fit its angular aesthetic. But, for some reason, Louis rather likes it, even though
he feels figuratively minuscule in front of that huge main building.
It’s…grounding.
As they lumber out of the car and into the afternoon sunlight, it soon becomes clear that they’re
merely three of many. All around them, students are heaving their own suitcases and bags out of
cars, struggling with a campus map, arguing with their parents, or doing all three.
Louis tugs on his jumper sleeve, shuts the car door, and follows Liam’s ecstatic giggling all the
way to the registration desk.
They insist on leaving Jay in a café nearby–no one wants to be the new kid wandering around
with their mama at their heels, thank you very much–and, as bad as it may seem, Louis is almost
glad to be free of her for a few minutes. It allows him to let out a big, poofing sigh once they pass
the front doors of the head office, and squish his face up against his hands in inner turmoil until
they get to the front of the queue.
Liam barely notices. He’s on cloud nine right now, apparently, swinging on the balls of his feet,
smiling so brightly that Louis genuinely wonders if he’s related to a glow stick.
But Louis doesn’t blame him for his excitement. He’s excited, too, even though it’s barely visible
beneath his nervousness.
The woman at the registration desk is old, wrinkled, with a bridged, sloping nose and half-moon
glasses. Louis is about to ask Liam how old he thinks this woman is when suddenly, she’s looking
at them with inquisitive, bird-like eyes, and he loses all train of thought in fear of the potentially
pernicious.
“Room keys for Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson, please.” Liam says.
“Eh?” The woman grunts.
“Room keys for Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson, please.” Liam repeats, before whispering to
Louis, “ Hearing aids. ”
The woman finds Liam and Louis’ room keys, and pushes them off the desk with such sudden
viciousness that Liam is positively scrambling to catch them before they cascade onto the floor.
Louis fights a smile as he watches Liam unseal his letter, before jaggedly doing the same.
As they glance at each other’s envelopes, something suddenly becomes clear.
“Umm.” Louis steps back up to the desk. “Excuse me, Miss, there’s been a misunderstanding, I
think.”
“Nope.” The old lady shakes her head so violently that her chin wobbles. “It is what it is. Next!”
Louis is bordering impertinent as he stands his ground. “No, you don’t understand. My brother
and I are supposed to share a room.”
“No. You, young man, are sharing with Sam Norton, while Mister Payne is sharing with a certain
Neil Horan. ” She says, squinting at the piece of paper. What the actual fuck?
“This is unacceptable.” Louis frowns.
She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t make the rules. Maybe your roommates will be willing to trade.”
“Li.” Louis hisses. “Do something!”
“Like what?” Liam says, bewildered.
“Mum is gonna freak!”
“Shit. Yes, she is. What are we gonna do?” Liam panics a little, jittery on the spot, before catching
himself. “We can’t tell her, Lou. She’s gonna make a scene.”
“Urgh.” Louis stomps his foot on the ground and wonders, out of the few times Liam was right,
he chose today, of all days, to be so. Not picking lottery numbers, or good music playlists, but this.
Now.
Liam lets out a little puffy sigh. “We’ll sort this out. It’s not that bad. Come on.”
“I can’t share my living space with a stranger, Li!” Louis says, vehemently, before quietly adding-
– “They’ll know! They’ll judge.”
“Do you want to be that kid that calls mommy the first bump in the road, Lou?” Liam says,
helplessly, flapping his arms like a fucking parrot. “Be a good sport. You wanted to blend in. This
is blending in.”
Louis groans. He hates it when Liam uses his own words against him.
He hates it even more when his own words are right.
He moodily glares at the woman behind the desk. “Thanks for nothing, Grams.”
**
As they walk out of the head office, Louis wonders what he did to make God hate him so much.
Knowing his luck, Liam’s roommate will be an incognito fashion model. Or the winner of the
next Powerball. Or anything, literally anything, but the scraggy, meth-ridden mess that this Sam
Norton is probably going to be.
As agreed, they don’t say anything to Jay, even though the desire to do so burns a big hole in
Louis’ stomach for the rest of the afternoon. It continues even when all of their belongings are in
Louis’ dorm room in record time, now with the added stress of having to pray that this “Sam”
bloke doesn’t show up on top of it.
Which is just great. Great great great great great great great.
Great.
“Wow! This is lovely,” Jay says, over-enthusiastic as always, looking around their dorm and
setting a laundry basket full of shoes and books on Louis’ mattress.
“If nice is dead rat stretched over a couple of floorboards, then yeah.” Louis replies, standing
stiffly by the door.
“You’ve got a beautiful view of campus,” She says, forced lightness evident in her tone.
Liam flicks his gaze back to the room, popping his lips in an attempt to diffuse the tension in the
room. “It’s a nice place. It’d look nicer with Ikea furniture, but….it’s still nice.”
Louis snorts and wonders if it’s possible to induce a fatal stroke. Ikea, his arse.
Jay rises from the bed and comes to join Louis, placing careful, soft hands on his shoulders.
“It’s going to be okay,” She says, as if reciting a religious statement.
Fuck . Knowing her, she probably is.
She tightens her grip on his shoulders, stoops down despite the fact that Louis is taller than her–
maybe everyone is just accustomed to looking down on him in this cruel, cruel world– and says,
rather sternly:
“There’s forever a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Louis resists rolling his eyes, internally puking, and decapitating himself all at once, and retorts,
“You just need the patience to look.” She squeals, releasing his shoulders and doing a little victory
dance around the room.
That’s another thing Louis’ mum is big on: mantras. You’d think she was a preschool teacher with
the amount of ‘finish-its’ she throws around on a daily basis:
“Whatever goes up–”
“Must come down.”
“Never forget the path less trodden may be the greater path–”
“Despite how many roses the trodden may boast.”
And, finally, Louis’ personal favourite– not —
“Anyone who does not love does not know God–”
“Because God loves everyone, despite their dif erences.”
He swears to this day that his mum made that up only to appease him.
After doing a giddy little circle-dance around Louis on the carpet, the next thing she does is
comment on the ceiling pattern. And then the thickness of the walls. And then the proximity of the
window to the pond outside, and then how the door leans slightly to one side, and it’s too much
it’s too much it’s too much.
Louis has to stop her train of thought before she full-on moves in with him. He has to.
“Okay, mum.” He grimaces. “See you at Christmas!”
She’s instantly deflated. “But, I could help you settle in–”
Like either one of them are gonna let her find out, or even worse, mummy them in front of all
these new faces. Yeah. Right.
“No, no Jay! You don’t have to do that.” Liam laughs nervously, sending a pointed look Louis’
way. Then, he drops his voice and whispers, “Don’t let her embarrass us the first day of school,
please.”
“Mum. You’ve done more than enough.” Louis smiles his brightest smile. “Li and I are adults.
Well, mostly me, but we can take it from here, I swear.”
A certain vulnerability crosses Jay’s eyes and, for a second, Louis doesn’t want her to go. She
looks like a wounded puppy, but after a moment, her delicate visage crumples, moving aside for a
gentle sigh and a focused brow.
“Okay, I guess.” She agrees, reluctantly.
Liam sighs in relief.
It’s not like Liam’s got any ‘street cred’ to protect in the first place, or whatever, but he’s right.
Louis could use a little break from his overprotective mother too. She leaves after hugging them both and giving the same old safety recommendations to Louis.
He’s a little sad to see her leave.
**
“I don’t like this.” Louis says, stubbornly, while Liam is moving his boxes out.
Liam looks up at Louis, who’s currently perched atop the bed with his arms crossed. “Remember
when you bitched when I first moved into our room at home?”
“You mean my room.”
“Case in point.”
Louis glares at him. “Well, I got used to you.”
“And you’ll get used to Sam.”
Louis gives him a suspicious look. A bitter one, even. He isn’t stupid. He can take a hint.
Even if he knows his brother loves him to death, and even if they share some common ground—it
can’t be easy to deal with him everyday. And it’s not just the disease, Louis knows he can be a
pain, not that he’ll ever admit it.
But Liam has been very vocal about meeting new people, and, specifically, girls . Louis supposes
that he’s not really first choice for wingman material, but he doesn’t blame Liam for it.
In fact, Louis can’t really blame Liam for any of this: wanting to meet new people, wanting to
move on, wanting to live the classic college life.
It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it, though. Or that he’s going to help him move.
“Ready?” Liam asks, tentatively locking his dorm door.
“As much as I’ll ever be.” Louis scowls at the door. It’s all your fucking fault.
Liam begins to walk. “This way.”
And of course Liam knows his way around the place already. He went to do “recon” earlier this
month –yeah, that’s the fucking word he used, like he’s in the damned CIA– so now that makes
him an expert on everything campus. And he’s giddy and pumped all the way around, bouncing
on his heels, squealing and pointing at everything on the way like a fucking tour guide.
There’s a restaurant, a café and a diner on campus that seem really nice, according to Liam. Can
you believe that they’re all nice, Louis? And oh! Look at that garden! Have you seen the club
across the street? Or the laboratory?
God.
Louis could murder him in his sleep. There’ll be no fingerprints. One of the, if not the only, perk
of wearing gloves all the time.
**
They finally settle at a diner a few minutes away from the dorms.
It’s packed with students. A few, like Louis, had come with company, but not many. Louis
doesn’t blame them. This diner wasn’t exactly his first choice on campus to eat. But everywhere
else was full, and just the thought of all of those people, crammed into one certain space with so much luggage and baggage and proximity, makes Louis want to shiver. He tucks his shirt in his
trousers on instinct.
They’re pretty much silent while they eat, which is weird. Liam not generally having something to
say is weird . Louis, in response to that, not saying something sassy is weird. But it’s not an
uncomfortable silence. It lets Louis daydream.
Liam suddenly squeezes Louis’ hand from over the table, surprising him.
“Hey.” His eyes are solemn. “We’ll visit the library right after, alright? It’ll cheer you up.”
This is why Liam is his favorite brother.
Yeah, Louis might want to murder him 99% of the time, but he also knows Louis. He knows
when to push, he knows when Louis needs quiet time to gather his thoughts, and he knows that
right now, Louis is overwhelmed and in need of a semblance of tranquility and peace.
And, he also knows that libraries are Louis’ favourite place in the whole wide world, with
museums. But they don’t have time to visit the MOMA, so the library will have to do.
“Yeah.” Louis agrees, squeezing Liam’s hand back over the table. “I’d like that.”
He looks away. The flicker of his reflection in the window suddenly reminds Louis of his myriad
of insufficiencies– ruffled jeans, a huge, heavy sweater that slopes way beyond his bum and
wrists, practically Jupiter-scaled glasses and a fringe that constantly strives to get in his eyes– and
strikes him with a realization of how weird he must look.
But he feels slightly better already, the promise of something familiar brightening his thoughts.
Maybe this won’t be so bad, after all.
**
When Louis gets back to his room, Sam, his roommate, isn’t there, still. Or maybe he’s just never
going to arrive; the other bedroom looks completely untouched. Either way, Louis doesn’t mind,
nor does he reply to Liam’s texts for the night. Instead, he unpacks his bare necessities– mattress
cover, duvet, pillow, pillowcase– bundles them onto the bed, and settles himself beside the
window for a while. The room kind of reminds Louis of a hospital room. But smaller. And without a TV.
He rests his head on his knees and looks out of the window. He’s chosen the bedroom furthest
away from everywhere, and it gives a great view of campus from where he’s sat. As the evening
begins to tick in, he thinks of home, and Liam, and falls asleep with his face pressed sideways on
the glass.
Hah.
At least his room isn’t facing a parking lot.
**
It feels so weird to hear same-old noises in a brand-new place, especially when waking up. It’s
something that always unsettled Louis about hospitals- the unfamiliarity and deja vu slammed into
one setting. Deja vu in the form of noises. Noises like talking. Shuffling. Lighters.
Wait…lighters?
What the fuck.
He sits up with a start, heart thumping obviously in his chest. The noises are coming from beyond
the bedroom door, but they’re still loud, and, to someone blurry-eyed and blurry-eared, could be
misheard as sounds coming from the same room.
It’s disconcerting, but for a while he figures he can ignore it and hide, so he does. Over the years, this bit has never gotten better. The anxiety. The stress. The pressure of meeting
new people. The fear closes a seal around his chest and refuses to move, almost like a whopping
weight bearing down on his breastbone– crushing, cracking, all in one place.
But after a while it occurs to him that he has to pee, is kind of hungry and that he can’t hide in his
room forever. It’s simply impractical.
Ugh. Come on, Louis.
He gets up, still dressed in his pyjamas from the night before, his hair sticking up at one side from
where the pillow has left its mark. For a few minutes, he just pries the door open, and looks out,
unnoticed, at the two intruders steadily making themselves at home.
The first one he sees, the boy, is tall and lean, with lanky arms and legs draped in tattoos. He’s
wearing a spiked sleeveless jacket and a Slayer tour top, and his hair, shaved at one side, hangs
over the left side of his face like a raven, shiny curtain. He’s quite pale, attractive, and somehow
reminds Louis of a moth. He assumes this is Sam.
The second one he sees is a girl. She’s a lot shorter than the boy, with a ripped vest top and
several beads adorning her wrists. Her hair is short, dark, choppy, almost like she’s cut it herself,
and she’s quite stout, tanned, and freckled all at once.
The boy has a cigarette in his mouth, and, as Louis watches, they fling boxes upon boxes
carelessly into the room, chuck bags onto the sofa, kick paint pots and miscellaneous trays into the
corners.
Somehow, the messiness of it all annoys Louis. He spent all of that time making sure that his stuff
was all compacted into one space, one room, so that his roommate wouldn’t get pissed and here
they are, rushing in, and ruining everything.
The room smells like weed, and looks like shit. And it’s not on, really. It strikes Louis not only as
uncalled for, but shamefully rude. But if he stands up for anything, it’s first impressions, and so, he
holds his tongue and breath long enough to rein back his displeasure.
“Hi, Sam. I’m Louis.” He stammers. He does so with the Yorkshire accent he’s never been able to
completely shake off– despite being in the States for thirteen years– and hates it.
The cute boy looks puzzled for a second.
“Wh–? Haha, bro. Good one.” He says, to Louis, before leaving to get another box, just like that.
The girl comes out of the bathroom holding what looks like a carrier bag.
“I’m Sam.” She says, easily, barely blinking at Louis’ confusion. “Nice PJs, Twinky.”
She looks as condescending as she sounds.
What the actual fuck.
“You’re a girl.” Louis answers, dumbly, and the boy cackles in the background.
“Your powers of observation are astonishing.” She deadpans, before resuming her mantra of
moving boxes.
“No.” Louis’ cheeks flare. “I mean, we can’t share this room, it’s against dorm policy.”
The boy is in hysterics behind them, sticking his thumb down and mumbling, “Boooooo, it’s
against the ruuuuules.”
“You’re welcome to sleep in the hall, Twinky.” Sam dismisses.
“But–” Louis doesn’t know where to begin.
“Look.” Sam sighs. Her face is round and serious. “I’m not rooming with Pam the cheerleader yet
another year, so you’re just gonna have to deal, simple as that. Plus, I’m not around much.”
The boy nods his agreement from the doorway before shuttling in with a painting bigger than his
entire body, having to turn it sideways in order to fit it inside. Sam watches his movements, amused for a moment, before seemingly remembering something and turning to Louis.
“This is Zayn, by the way.” She says.
Zayn stops hauling the painting to wave, but, in the process, lets one of the corners drop to the
floor. Sam grunts, walking over to lift it herself with the impatience of someone who’s been in this
situation several times.
“Watch it, Z!” She huffs, as Zayn stubs the corner of the painting on the doorframe. “This is my
best piece.”
Louis stops for a minute to look at it. It’s a landscape painting, composed of varying shades of
purples and violet, and in the centre, a naked guy is sprawled over an inky backdrop.
It’s very detailed, and very skillful, and for a moment Louis doesn’t really know what to say. A
rare occasion, all in all.
“You did this?” Louis asks.
“Yeah.” Sam looks up at it. “You like it, Twinky?”
“It’s…not my style. At all.” Louis comments, eyes wide.
Zayn smirks. “Then you should definitely stop staring at the junk, dude.”
Louis feels like he’s been caught elbow deep in the cookie jar.
Sam leaps on the opportunity. “Ohhhh, Twinky is a dick lover, Z!”
“My name is Louis.” Louis scowls.
“I’ll agree to call you by your name if you agree to bunk with me. Do we have a deal?”
“No.”
“Suit yourself… Twinky.” She barks out a laugh. “Listen. I’m a second year. I know my way
around here. Just looking at you I can see that you’re gonna be eaten alive. You should really
reconsider. I mean, having someone like me on your side is quite the advantage.”
“Definitely.” Zayn amends.
“No.” Louis is resolute.
It’s Sam’s turn to frown. “Come on now, don’t be a dick.”
Louis doesn’t reply. Instead, he simply goes back into his room and gets dressed, gloves and all.
When he comes out of his room again, Zayn and Sam are unpacking in the doorway, barely even
noticing him. He walks right past them, stopping in the corridor only to say, “You better be gone
when I come back or I’ll report you.”
Sam doesn’t even bat an eyelash.
**
Louis is fuming.
Who was that girl?
Like, what the fuck?
School hasn’t even begun yet, and it’s already a disaster of epic proportions.
Sam fucking Norton. This is just what he doesn’t need right now. That, and the constant stream of texts he’s been
receiving from Liam for the past hour or so.
are you in ok?I’m in ok.
Listen!! my roommate is this really cool guy called Niall. B)
Ni-all! How sweet is that!!!
AND HE’S IRISH!
The guy has both amazing hair and an amazing rock album collection. I think you’ll love
him, Lou.
Lou?
Louuuuuuu!!!
He’s on his way to see him right now. And to complain about his roommate, of course. He has a
nagging feeling that she’s not going to go away that easily, and it’s unsettling him.
In fact, everything seems to be unsettling right now, from the people lifting boxes in and out of the
doorways, to the harsh lighting, to the hallways that are way too narrow for his taste.
Louis can’t help but notice this type of stuff, he always does. It isn’t going to be easy avoiding
touching for the next four years with such fucking bullshit rising up to impede him every fucking
step of the fucking way–
Argh.
He pinches the bridge of his nose as he walks. The sooner he gets to Liam, the sooner they can get
to the administration and sort their housing situation. So it’s obvious that his mood plummets even
further when he comes across a blockage on his journey, so to speak.
A blockage in the form of a boy.
He looks about Louis’ age, and is quite blatantly chatting up a girl. Lean, tanned, with big, broad
shoulders and a short plaid shirt, he towers over the rest of the hallway like a vaguely muscular
lamppost. His entire left arm is littered in tattoos, and his hair, though curly, sticks up short and
soft out from the rim of his baseball cap.
The girl he’s talking to is leaning with her back to the wall, and he has one hand on the wall
beside her face, the other seemingly pulling an ace of spades from behind her ear.
A magic trick.
At its success, the boy looks proud of himself, a cheeky smile on his face, and deep dimples
forming on either sides of it: crumbling in his face like rockslides. The girl feigns disinterest and
begins to bat him away, but Louis can tell by the way she’s angling her body that the boy’s charm
is working on her.
He’s leaning over the girl with a predatory cockiness, and obnoxiously chewing his gum like he’s
going to devour her any minute.
He’s literally exuding coolness and swag. Louis hates him instantly.
“Um, excuse me, you’re in my way.”
The girl laughs really loudly at something the boy says, and it blurs out Louis’ little plea. He waits
for a few seconds, because really, nobody is that unnoticable in the middle of a fucking hallway.
Or so he thinks.
Ten seconds later and the boy still hasn’t seen him yet, and Louis’ patience is all but gone.
He clears his throat. “Oi. Can you move your mating ritual somewhere else?”
The boy lifts his head up, obviously amused by Louis’ shortness.
“Sorry, mate,” he says, voice low, hoarse and broadly British, “no need to get all snappy.”
His eyes are too far apart and large, like Louis’, and his mouth is plump and pursed. Under his
hair, you can’t see his ears, and his chin is perfectly peach, rounded and smooth as he pouts.
It makes Louis want to punch him.
He clears his throat. “Well, your little card game is in my way, so…”
“Is it?” The boy remarks, amusement in his tone. “It matches the poker you have in your arse,
mate.”
The girl cackles at this, and Louis’ face goes from red, he’s sure, to crimson.
Twat. The boy steps back from the girl, bows down, before dramatically shuffling out of Louis’ path
with his arm outstretched. Louis would almost be impressed with the perfect execution of the
move if it wasn’t performed by a beer-ponging, thumb-faced asshole.
“Go ahead, Your Highness.” The boy says.
Biting down every insult Louis knows, he holds his tongue, and walks on past.
**
Louis enters Liam’s room with the dramatics of a drag queen and the posture of a bedraggled
marathon runner.
“Save me from this hell.” He murmurs, before diving head first into the couch.
A loud cackle startles him. It’s not Liam.
“You must be Louis.” A grinning, wide-smiled blond comments from the other side of the room.
He’s clad in a bright green vest top and odd socks, and is looking at Louis like he’s recently
rearranged the cosmos.
Louis sits up.
“Yeah, I– Who are you? Where’s the Loam? How come there are no Americans at this
university?”
“I’m Niall!” Niall gets up, grabs Louis’ gloved hand, and shakes it vigorously. “Liam is taking a
nap, he’s still dying from his hangover. We partiiiiied hard last night.”
Louis barely blinks. “My invite must have gotten lost in the mail.”
“No worries, man.” Niall is, apparently, immune to sarcasm. “We’re going out again tonight, and
tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.”
“Nialler? Who are you talking t–” Liam suddenly pops up from the doorway.
Louis doesn’t know what to focus on.
First of all— Nialler? When did that happen?
Secondly, Liam looks like shit. Literal shit . He’s evidently hungover, bless him, with eyebags the
colour of Satan’s asshole and an disorientated look in his eyes to match.
Thirdly, Niall is ruffling Liam’s hair right now. Louis doesn’t know if this is a good thing.
“Louis!” Liam comments, beaming. “When did you get here?”
Louis ignores the question. “You look like shit.”
Liam smiles, sheepishly so. “I may have burned the midnight oil last night.”
Niall high fives Liam, or at least tries to, but Liam is hesitant, frozen in place under Louis’
judgemental glare.
Niall’s smile falters. “Don’t leave me hanging, bro!”
Bro.
Liam high fives him.
“Pretty sure I’m the actual ‘bro’ here.” Louis deadpans.
“Dry.” Niall says, easily, evidently not phased at all. “Liam said you were a sassy little bean.” Louis looks affronted. “I most definitely am not!”
“Don’t worry mate, I like it! So are you hitting the town with us tonight, Tommo?”
Tommo? What the fuck is wrong with people?
“What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing fancy, really. Pizza. Bar. Booze. Lots of clubbing, maybe. Shelly from 3B, most
definitely.” Niall cackles. Liam too.
An inside joke. How lovely.
Louis, forever the good citizen, speaks up. “We’re too young to be drinking in a bar.”
“That’s why I got this.” Niall reaches for his laptop and shows Louis his fake ID maker. “So who
you wanna be, Tommo?”
Louis gives him a blank stare.
Niall smiles. “Come on. Or I’ll choose for you.”
Liam winces. “Don’t let him do that. I’m Stephano Rodriguez because of it.”
“How about Arty Choake?” Niall says, innocently enough. “Barry DeHachette? Stuart Beef?”
There’s a moment of silence, in which Louis wants to cry himself to sleep.
“I think I’m gonna use tonight to settle in my room, thanks.” He says, tone clipped.
“Oh?” Liam replies, expression concerned. “Is your roommate okay, then?”
No. “Yeah. He’s a cool dude.”
It’s not a lie if he talks about a boy, right?
“Raincheck?” Niall asks, hopeful, oblivious to the tension in the room.
“Yes, absolutely.” Louis stands. “You two have fun, okay?”
“You’re leaving already?” Liam asks, eyebrows knitted together.
“Yeah, I have stuff to do.”
If said stuff involves sobbing into a pillow, no one has to know.
**
When Louis leaves the room, his visit barely fifteen minutes, it’s no great surprise to him that he
stumbles upon the asshole boy again. He’s stood in the exact same spot, with a different girl this
time and it’s with his appearance filtering into Louis’ eyeline that Louis ultimately decides that
college life hates him.
He walks down the corridor. This time, the boy sees him coming, and flashes him a dimpled grin–
moving out of the way with the same little bow he did earlier.
“What is this spot?” Louis mumbles, in passing. “Asshole headquarters?”
“Aww, ass and head, my favourites!” The boy is lightning quick to reply. “How did you know?”
Louis turns back, ready to dump all his day’s frustration on the boy with a slashing one-liner, but
the boy has already returned to whispering into the girl’s ear.
**
When the door finally shuts behind him in his dorm, Louis goes straight to his room. Ignoring
Sam’s questioning look, Louis sits down on his bed, and bumps his head back against the wall.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
God.
Well, there’s no doubt that the next nine months are going to be fun. It’s not as if Louis didn’t
have enough trouble with Liam abandoning him, or the glove situation, or anything.
Great.
Throw in an annoying roommate and an asshole outside, too, why won’t you, God?
Louis kicks one of his boxes off the bed and some of his clothes spill over the floor, just to rub it
in.
Which is great. Just great.
It’s no consolation to Louis, but at least he figures he can busy himself by picking them all up
again instead of worrying about what the Hell he’s going to do for the next nine months.
Which, of course, spurs him into worrying about what the Hell he’s going to do for the next nine
months.
Oh God . He’s going to be a complete loner, isn’t he? Louis can see it already, the short dude sat
in the corner by himself, eating cheese sandwiches rather than going to raves or parties or
anything else people at university are supposed to do. He’s going to live his college days alone
and, sadly, once he goes to the graduation ceremony, people will just kind of frown and say,
“Who’s that?”
You’re overreacting, the mirror says, as he tucks it back into the box. Just calm down.
Fuck of , he thinks, shoving it under a stripy pair of underwear, but then realizes that the mirror is
probably right.
He does need to calm down.
He needs to take the pressure he’s feeling and route it somewhere else. Before someone sees.
If they see him like this, all moody, fed-up, and on the brink of a meltdown, they will meltdown,
and then Liam will find out and go into a huff and act as if Louis is doing it all on purpose, just to
ruin his amazing new life away from home.
“This is the start of a new era.” He kept saying.
The first time he had said it was back in May. Louis was sending their housing forms in, and of
course, he had put down Liam as his roommate– there had been no doubts about it. The two of
them had shared a room for the last eleven years, why stop now?
“Louuuu.” Liam pouted, sat on the frame of the bed and wearing his I’m-the-grown-up face.
“We’ve been stepbrothers for the past, like, decade.”
“And?” Louis argued, crossing his arms. “It’s worked out great.”
Liam let out a long, hearty sigh. “And I’m not saying it hasn’t. But this is college, Lou! The whole
point is to broaden your horizons, meet new people.”
Louis scrunched his nose. “I don’t need new people. New people touch and laugh and snort and
ignore and boast and hate and kiss and hug and fuck. I hate new people.”
“Oh, Louis.” Liam sighed, and then, shook his head. “At some point we have to flap our wings
and fly away from the nest.”
“I’ve already flown from the nest, remember?” Louis rolled his eyes. “2001. Johanna Poulston became Johanna Payne. You were there, in fact.”
“Louuuuuu. You know what I meannn.” Liam put his hands over Louis’ fully clothed shoulders,
and then stepped back, releasing them. “It’s supposed to be an adventure.”
“It’s already an adventure without you abandoning me.” Louis rolled his eyes.
“I’m not abandoning you.” Liam repeated. “You need new people.”
“I don’t. I live in a house with eight other people, for God’s sake….”
“And that just shows how much you need new people.” Liam said, softly now, patting Louis’
hair, ignoring the way Louis shrinked at the contact, “And face it, you don’t have any friends
aside from Ed, really now, do you? This is going to be good for us.”
“I have friends aside from Ed.” Louis turned beet red.
He really didn’t.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this alone.”
Louis didn’t know it at the time, but Jay wouldn’t allow them to apply for separate housing no
matter how much Liam wanted it. And, as for Liam’s defence– Geof Payne knew a lost battle
when he saw one.
“You’re never alone,” Liam had said, sighing again. “That’s the whole point of having a
bloomin’ step-brother, isn’t it?”
**
“Okay. We’re gonna have to set some ground rules here.” Louis is resolute once he enters the
living room again, hands clenched in determination.
He hates breaking rules. But the thing about having such pride that it has to be protected, no
matter what. And he’ll be damned if he’s going to let his be tarnished just because of the way
things have turned out. Yes, it’s awkward, and yes, it’s unfortunate– but if Liam can survive in
this environment, so can he. It’s not a big deal.
The dorm looks a little tidier than before, but there’s still boxes splayed everywhere, and a
lingering aroma of weed that Louis isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to. Sam is just across from him,
standing atop one of the tables and struggling to hang a painting up by herself. It’s the nude from
earlier, still easily four times the size of her, and the way that her feet are wobbling makes Louis
nervous.
“A hand, please, Twinky?” Sam grunts, after a few moments.
Louis lets out a huff before clambering atop a chair to help her, propping one side of the painting
up while she determinedly nails the other into a wall. While he’s holding it up, he realizes that his
cheek is pressed squarely against the dick.
“God, it’s heavy.” Louis grumbles, face literally squished against the guy’s foreskin.
Sam grins: a full, Cheshire cat smile. “I bet you’ve never been in contact with a dick for so long
before.”
“Shut up! Do you want to hang it by yourself?”
She winces. “No.”
After many minutes of grunt-accompanied angle changing and weight lifting, they manage to
hang it up. Hell, it’s still a little wonky, and fuck, it is a little weird to have a huge fucking dick
staring at you the first second you walk in– but Louis is still a little pleased with his work, and it
seems to put his mind off things for a little while. “So what did you say about ground rules, Twinky?” Sam says, handing Louis a bottle of water.
Louis looks at her. She reminds him a little of an elf, somehow. She has a round, symmetrical
face, with scruffy eyebrows and a very serious mouth.
And her hair.
God, it’s probably the hair. Louis has never seen hair that runs in so many directions before– each
strand, he’s sure, could double as angles on a compass. For a second, he imagines her on the front
of Santa’s sleigh, using her dark mop to navigate through the arctic, and a smile tugs at his lips.
But then, he’s serious once more. This is no time for hilarity.
He places one finger in the air. “First rule, you call me by my name: Louis.”
An impish smile crosses her face. “Okay, Lewis.”
“Why do I even bother?” Louis makes a gesture to get up off the couch, but Sam attempts to grab
his arm and he jolts back.
“Don’t touch me!” He shouts, with a little too much force, and Sam scowls.
“I wasn’t going to harm you, Jeez. Chill.”
“I’m not umm, comfortable with… umm… physical contact, that’ll be the second rule.” Louis
clears his throat, flustered. “And it’s an important one.”
“Duly noted, Louis. ” She rolls her eyes. “What else?”
“No smoking in the bits we share.”
She makes a face. “Okay. What else?”
“I’m not a maid. You pick up after yourself.” Louis says.
“I’m not a slob!”
“Never said you were. Um, let’s see. If you have company, keep the noise down.”
“I’m loud.” Sam shrugs. “I’m sorry, I am. I’m notoriously loud in bed.”
“My god, TMI!” Louis blushes. “I was talking about having friends over! Not– that .”
“Yeah well, me having a friend over generally leads to that, so fair warning.” Sam shrugs again.
“But they’re usually gone by morning, so you don’t have to see them or anything.”
Louis moves the conversation on. “We should also make a system for cleaning and grocery
shopping.”
“Fine by me.”
“We can take turns for laundry if you want. It’ll be cheaper.”
“You’re comfy sorting through my underwear Twin–” She’s about to bark out a laugh, but Louis
glares, so she holds her hands high in surrender, “I mean Louis .”
Louis blinks, unimpressed. “I have four sisters. Pretty much seen it all.”
“Good to know.”
“Do you have some ground rules?”
“Nope.”
“Not even about the toilet seat?”
“Somehow, you strike me as the neatfreak type, borderline anal, and not in a good way. So I’m
not worried.” She laughs. “Plus, nothing can be worse than Pam’s moisturizing routines and
cheerleading squad meetings in the living room, believe me.” Louis snorts.
“And he smiles!” Sam says, easily. “I wondered if you were capable, to be honest.”
“Heeeey.” Louis crinkles up his nose.
“Don’t worry.” She shakes her index finger his way. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
**
Unpacking feels way better than it should. Settling his textbooks on the shelves; giving his space
some sort of order. Sam and Louis spend the rest of the day doing this.
It’s a kind of awkward dance around each other about the dorm, not exactly talking but not exactly
ignoring each other either. It’s weird, but it’s peaceful, and Louis is just glad he can get all of his
thoughts into one place without interruption.
When he’s fully unpacked, Louis lets out a deep sigh, and places his hands on his hips. He feels
better already. Order has always made him feel better, and even though he’s aware it’s borderline
OCD it doesn’t stop him from giving in to it. Even as a child, he was ridiculously tidy, shelves
never dusty, carpet never cluttered. He guesses that was the way it had to be.
A place for everything and everything in its place.
His mother would be proud.
It’s after he finishes inspecting his handiwork that his stomach rumbles, reminding him that he
hasn’t eaten anything in God knows how long. He stumbles out of his room, bleary eyed and low
browed, only to find Sam seated on the sofa practically murdering a magazine with scissors in
front of him. She’s doing some sort of collage, and almost as if she’s reading his mind, she says,
without looking up, “I’m starving.”
Louis itches his thumb. “There’s nothing in the fridge yet. I could go grocery shopping.”
“I don’t think I can wait that long.” The grumble Louis’ stomach makes is answer enough, so she
adds, “Let’s hit the cafe around the corner and then the store. I need supplies, anyway.”
“Like tampons?”
“No.” She glares. “Like paint and glitter, dickhead. I’m working on a project.”
“The year hasn’t started yet. How do you even have assignments?”
“It’s not an assignment.” She shrugs, helplessly. “I go where my muse takes me. And my muse
says that this year’s theme is gonna revolve around glitter.”
“What?”
“I’m an Art major. Every year, Professor Corden does an exhibit for his best students. It’s usually
for the seniors, but I’m sure I can get in if only I get the right idea. I was this close to getting in last
year.” She pinches the air. “But apparently my work lacked focus or whatever. Asshat.”
“Okay.” Louis says, bored. “I doubt anything involving glitter would ever land you a spot in any
exhibit, but each to their own, I guess.”
Sam puts down her scissors. “Let’s go grab a bite, Lewis. I’m snappy when I’m hungry, and
you’re getting on my nerves as it is.”
Louis laughs at that. “You’re very straight forward. Like me.”
“ I’m straight forward. You’re just plain bitchy.”
“Hey!” Louis frowns. “Told you. Snappy when I’m hungry.” She says, matter-of-factly.
**
As they walk around campus, there’s a strange sort of silence between them, but Sam easily fills it
with small talk, showing him all of the hot spots.
“Since you’re new, I’m gonna give you the basics of SFSU.” She sticks her hands in her tracksuit
pockets. “You’re not gonna survive a week here otherwise. No offence.”
Louis gives her an unimpressed look.
“On your left, you have the Stoner spot. Don’t go there, Twinky, they’ll eat you up alive.” Sam
says. “On your right is the bowling alley. Yes, we do have a bowling alley, don’t ask. It’s not as
bad as it sounds. It has a retro nineties vibe, and the music is not half bad. Here’s the Deli, don’t
go there unless you want food poisoning or to get out of an exam and right next to it is Jock
central, where cheerleaders exchange STDs with basketball players.”
As they sit down and order in the cafe, Sam is, for the most part, quieter than usual, but the silence
breaks as soon as Louis takes his gloves off to eat.
“What’s with the gloves, Twinky?” She says, not even bothering to look up, playing with her fries
with the same idleness as a cat messing with a mouse.
Here we go.
“None of your business.”
“See, you look soft and quiet, but you’re really not.” She says, easily grinning.
Louis sighs. “Let’s just avoid personal questions, Sam. We’re not friends. Let’s not pretend we
are.”
Sam raises her eyebrows. “Didn’t know your fashion sense was in the range of personal
questions.”
“It is.”
“What’s your major?” She asks, placidly chewing.
“English lit.”
“Oh? I’m taking creative writing this year.”
“Me too.” Louis nods. “Why are you, though? It’s an extra curricular, and you like art.”
“Every lazy second year I know is taking it. The professor, Mr Winston, yeah? He’s just a slob.
He literally doesn’t care. Last year–” She snorts, “a student copied the entirety of Harry Potter
and the Philosopher’s Stone for their final exam and Winston didn’t even notice. Easy A if you
ask me.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“He literally gave the guy a B+ saying that it lacked a little structure. Can you believe it? It’s
hilarious.”
Louis shakes his head. “You just admitted you’re lazy, Sam. Yes, it is hilarious.”
“Wow. Already judging without even knowing me.” She sombers, suddenly, a little flustered. “So
you’re that type of guy. Good to know.”
“Wh–?” Louis scowls. “No! No. I’m not. I’m really not. I hate those guys.”
He really, really does. Hell, he’s had to suffer at the behest of those guys all of his fucking life. “Me too! And I’m not lazy. I’m just–” Sam huffs. “I’m here to become an artist. I’m really
focused on that. Every other course? Not so much. But I’ve got to pass them, so….”
“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”
“Exactly.” Sam nods, pleased with herself. “I’m going to a party tonight with Zayn. Do you
wanna join?”
Louis slips back on his gloves. “Thanks, I got an invite already.”
It’s not a lie, per se. He’s just not gonna join Niall and Liam in beer-pong paradise.
“Oh, okay.” Sam looks at her lap.
“Probably won’t be out late, orientation tomorrow, and all.”
“Yeah.”
**
While Sam hits the art store, Louis decides to lumber on back with the bags alone.
As of this moment, his arms are stinging under the weight– there’s got to be at least seven live
elephants in here, he swears– but if things couldn’t possibly get any worse, as soon as he turns the
corner to the hall leading up to his room, he stumbles upon the same obnoxious guy as before,
chatting up yet another girl.
Louis sighs. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The boy flashes him a delighted grin.
“The expression ‘get a room’ was invented just for you, I swear.” Louis momentarily rests his
bags on the ground. They were this close to falling, anyway.
The boy chuckles but doesn’t answer, nor does he move.
Louis takes this as an opportunity to snark. “Do you live in this hallway? Don’t you have a room?
Are you homeless?”
“Is that an invitation?” The boy answers, playfully.
Louis grunts. “Move.”
“Do you need a hand with those? You seem a little–”
“No.” Yes, Louis is very much aware of his appearance right now– glasses crooked on his nose,
sweat rolling down his neck, hair disheveled from way too many minutes without a fringe sweep
and his eyes probably bulging from the lack of sleep– but no, he certainly isn’t going stoop low
enough to let Hallway Boy help him out. “Just move, please.”
“And he said please!” Hallway Boy says, delighted, to no one in particular. “I was beginning to
wonder if you had any manners.”
Louis sighs.
Hallway Boy now makes the traditional reverence and moves out of the way: stooping his head
down, as always. Louis wonders if he’s ever going to stop. Maybe it’s just a temporary thing.
Maybe tomorrow, he will have moved on to another hallway. Or so Louis can only hope.
As he shuts his door, he hears Hallway Boy call out from behind it.
“You’re welcome, Your Highness!”
God. It takes Louis all of his self control not to throw all three milk cartons at the door in response.
General