The One With The Nerd || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 18: Potter? No, Styles.

I don't even know at this point... but looky how cute baby niam :)

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I somehow managed to avoid answering their questions throughout the entirety of dinner. I mean, sure, bringing up the unimportance of the game 'football' and how ridiculous it is to kick a ball around a field, certainly riled them up a bit. I'd managed to use that topic to my advantage as leverage, to distract them and make them start bickering between one another.

I guess you could say that I'm so comically genius.

Robin raved on about how great and entertaining the game was, as he felt so passionately about it. He tried to get me into it when I was younger, he still does occasionally, and I don't mind it. But I know that mum absolutely could not stand the game. She doesn't see the point in a lot of games like that, making it the perfect conversation piece, to make them forget about my whole situation. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if they'd forgotten I was even sat at the table with them to begin with, or was the one to randomly bring it up in the first place.

So as they began discussing the pro's and con's of playing or watching the game, I quietly stood up from my seat around the table and took my empty plate to the sink. I just stuck it in amongst the other dirty dishes, then snuck back out, past them and up to my room. I closed my door, letting out a breath of relief, thankful that I'd managed to skilfully escape without drawing attention to myself.

I brushed my teeth, before plopping down on my bed. Ah, sleep. It’s been another exhausting week, and I'm not just talking about homework. I haven't even done any lately, I've got a whole Sociology report to write, and I haven't even started! Looks like I've got my weekend booked out, because it's due on Monday. Honestly, I'd pretty much forgotten about it until now.

I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face, thinking that could magically relieve some of my overbearing stress. It did calm me down a little. I rolled over the the edge of my bed, reaching under it to grab my journal from the floor.

It's barely even eight yet, might as well do something before I fall asleep.

Sitting up, I propped my pillow up against the head rest, then I leant back against it, so I was able to sit upright and... write. It's basically just where I write song ideas, there’s unfinished lyrics scattered around in this journal everywhere. It's got no linear aspect to it at all, but neither do my ideas, hence the reason I like it.

I'd been writing for some time, although, most of the time I just had it sat open on my lap, while I stared at the wall, thinking. I fell asleep not long later, ideas still rushing around my mind, appearing in my dreams.

●●●

The weekend was a bust, no free time at all.

I spent majority of my time either locked in my room or in my parents' office, trying to get my sociology assignment finished. I rarely came out for food or toilet breaks. It was hell. Literal hell.

But, it kept my mind off of Louis, and the very unfortunate thing that happened last time I saw him, which we do not speak about.

And when I wasn't working on my assignment, I was- wait. Oh yeah, nothing. I was working on that same damn assignment, that's what I was doing.

So yeah, hopefully next weekend will be much better.

Look at me, I can't wait for the next weekend, and this one's only just finished, meaning I've got a whole nother week of crap to go through first. Yay.