The Exceptionals

Chapter 19: What Does Pink Stand For?

     Of course, before any good hero goes to battle, they deserve a good, mellow cry.

So that's exactly what Louis did.

He cried. More than a little though, but he would never admit that.

Cried all Saturday night and straight into Sunday morning, when the pink blush of dawn reflected Louis' hand-printed cheek. Sobbed as if there were no tomorrow. As if life couldn't possibly get any worse. He tried phoning Niall again but the home line stopped working; if that was the work of his resentful mother, Louis was going to lose it.

Still, his pride wouldn't let him confront her. He chose stubborn ignorance instead, deciding that staying clueless was easier than facing her. She hadn't even brought him food, not that he wanted her to. But nevertheless, that pissed him off further.

Was she going to pretend he wasn't her son because he was in love with a boy?

What a bitch.

Pink blisters lined the edges of his nails; the white part chomped to where it no longer grew. He had been nervously chewing on his nails for hours: for Harry's health, for his dignity, for his melting friendship, for his future—he wasn't sure, maybe all of it. Surely.

His lips were rosy and bitten from crying so hard, and his eyes carried a similar color from irritated tears that bled from his eyes.

Ubiquitous pink shades surrounded him—supposedly the color of love, though his life felt a raging shade of blue.

Determined, he got up and his body groaned in protest. He showered the pain, shielding beneath the clear drops of water. He bundled up and snuck out his window, completely oblivious to the shadow in the window that watched him peddle away on his bike.

The air licked his skin raw, his cheeks turned an angry shade of pink as the tip of his nose prickled under the cold. Huh, funny.

It was evening and the sun whispered good night, oranges and pinks and yellows danced a ballad as they followed him all the way until he reached campus, settling in a stellar purple as he arrived.

Louis fucking hates the color pink right now.

It mocked him, showed him what he lost, what he could've had; it laughed in his face and spat at his back.

He parked his bike without a second glance and trudged until he reached the dorm building, his mind quietly slipping to the memory of him screaming Niall's name, to the moment Harry first saw him, before he caught himself and continued walking up the steep stairs.

The hallway was bright and Louis swallowed as his gaze landed on the two doors he desperately needed to visit. It would be disrespectful if he skipped Niall's and went for Harry's first.

Louis cleared his throat, gripping the edges of his sleeves to hide his clenched fists beneath the soft cotton.

He knocked on the door, the sound muffled by the fabric covering his hand.

The wood creaked before the door swung open.

A sloppy smile forced upon his face. "Hi."

Niall looked at him, up and down, and Louis felt himself swallow.

He didn't greet him, but thankfully he didn't shut the door in his face, so Louis felt he had already won in a way. Niall stepped back into his room and didn't give Louis another thought as he laid down on the bottom bed, flicking through a comic.

"Hey," Niall said, voice dripping with ennui.

Louis shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Niall's silence like a stone in his chest. He'd always been able to count on Niall's easy laugh, his never-ending patience. But now, that same kindness felt out of reach, tucked behind the shield of indifference.