Look After You (1D Larry Fanfiction)

Part One - Louis' Point of View

Part One - Louis' Point of View

It was a crisp Monday in the middle of October. I tossed my warm, brown scarf over my shoulder as I walked along the sidewalk of the outdoor campus to my next class. I had to hand it to those administration assholes -- they had a beautiful living space at Pendleton Prep. The leaves were the perfect color of ripened pumpkins and the air seemed vast and free. I tugged at the bottom of my uniform blazer as I considered sketching this scene for my next project.

 My junior year at Pendleton had begun with a rocky start -- not even halfway through the semester and I had already gotten into a fight with a boy in my art class. You see, I'm not the kind of guy who just throws punches for a laugh. I can run my mouth all I want, but when it comes to physically harming someone... let's just say I had to have good reason. Anyway, they made me transfer art classes, so I wasn't quite sure what to expect on this particular Monday morning.

 I swung the brown door open that led into the brick edifice that was the art building. I read the transfer sheet: Room 211, Mr. Jameson. Once I climbed the stuffy staircase, I found the room and entered with a sigh. It was all goddamn freshmen. Mr. Jameson led me to my seat: a secluded spot near the corner. On the way to my new desk, I felt like a man condemned. Why couldn't I have just held my temper? I thought to myself. Then I could just be in class with my friends instead of these annoying freshmen. As these internal remarks were being made, I glanced at the boy who was seated in the desk before mine. His green eyes locked with mine for a fraction of a moment, then darted to the floor. I watched him shrink into his seat as if that would make it so I couldn't see him.

 The class that day was dreadfully boring. All Mr. Jameson rambled about was symmetry and the importance of it in art. As soon as the class was dismissed, the boy in front of me scuffed the floor with the legs of his chair and slumped into the hallway.

 Back at my dorm room, I sat on my bed with my sketch pad. I kept thinking about my freshman year and how different I had grown to be. I wondered what the boy in my class would grow to be. I suddenly came to the realization that, absentmindedly, I had been drawing his eyes on a blank sheet of paper. I reached for my colored pencils, searching for the correct shade of green...