CH2

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Hi, my name is Louis Tomlinson. I am eighteen years old and I start my last year in twelfth grade today. As every other day since the past ten years, I rose before the sun and headed towards the hill to watch the sun rise. At a rare occasion today, the weather seemed to be perfect for a morning run and I could hopefully return without any rain.


High hopes, I was drenched by the time I returned, my muddy shoes squeaking with every step I took.

"Louis, this is the fourth time this week, honey I don't have time to get those wooden floors washed every other day, we are running low on money as it is love"
I glanced up at my mother, she looked exhausted. It had become an often occurrence, to find her with bags under her eyes. She had been working too hard. She was a midwife at the neighboring hospital around our street. You know, the one that treated us, the poor, famished street rats as the rich labelled us to be. It was a shitty system. Democracy and equality rights that the very same nobles laid foundations in the courts for, were the biggest hypocrites and refused to even spare a glance at us, the not so fortunate.

"I'm sorry, I'll try avoiding the rain next time"
"Your fine, come in now, there is a letter from your father, the girls are waiting for you"

Dad worked at a construction company that refused to let workers leave the site till the projects were one hundred percent completed. Apparently they thrived for perfection and distractions were not welcomed. I hadn't seen dad in four months and so I hurriedly walked to my sisters in hopes that the letter held news of return.


I was just finishing with my toast when I heard a familiar laugh ring through my ears.
"About time mate! Are you ready to leave?"

I looked at my best friend to find him dressed in a clean formal coat with a white shirt and jeans underneath. He came from the richer part of the society. Why and how I ended up having him as my closest friend still remains unknown to me. Unlike most, he or his family did not seem to take my status into consideration and often invited me over for their homely formal celebrations.

" yeah Zayn, let's go"

As we drove up to our school driveway in Zayn's Porsche, I listened to him rave about his girlfriend, Gigi. She was a lovely girl, like Zayn, she came from a high status family but that did not stop her from mingling with others who may or may not happen to have the same financial background. Half listening, I wondered if I would ever find love like theirs. It did not help my case since I came from a low background. I fancied my own gender. I had for a while now. Nobody except Z and Gigi knew, and they still loved me and I was ever grateful for that. Humbleness like theirs came like two grains of rice in thirty bushels of chaff. They made my life significantly easier.

A sudden jerk cut me off from my imagination. Zayn nearly ran over a student! Turns out the boy had stumbled across the street and nearly got hit by Zayn. As he looked up, I was surprised how pale he looked. He was dressed well enough for me to know he too came bearing riches.. His curly hair ran wild. He looked out of breath, panting as his beautiful plump lips gasped for air.

He seemed distraught as he looked at us one last time before he ran into the school building. I assumed he was a junior as he looked significantly younger. However, it was his eyes that struck me the most. He looked terrified.

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