Forgotten Friend | tomlinson

34} Rain

"How far are you on your project?" I ask Louis, as I continue to write on my own piece of paper.

"How far are you?" He asks in reply.

"I just need to print out the resources I got my research from and that's it." I simply answer, but slightly smiling to myself about how proud I am from all my work.

"Oh," Louis says, stumped, "Wanna help me with mine?"

I let out a chuckle, "How far are you?"

He mumbles something under his breath, it's so low that I didn't even understand him. In reality in came out like a, "Khaonthetitle."

"Speak clearly so I can hear your response, child." I remind him in a clear tone to back up my statement.

He sighs, "I'm on the title."

"Your kidding."

"I wish I was." He admits, and rolls across the carpet floor in a depressed fashion.

"You better get started then!" I urge, sounding like my own mum.

"But it's so much work." He puffs, "Can you help me?"

"Asking me twice won't change my mind." I obliged, returning to my own work to do my own project, "Just get started and keep going. Before you know it, you'll be done."

He groans and rolls back to his project. I couldn't help but let a chuckle fly out from his silly actions. I know in the end that I'll help him, but right now I just wanna see him at least attempt to do his work for once.

Only ten minutes into our work, I glance over my shoulder and already see some mistakes on Louis' part. I internally sigh - Louis is fantastic at a lot of things, unfortunately, school or academics aren't one of them.

"Louis," I hold the pen from his hand before he could go on any further, "I'll help you out, mate. Don't worry."

Louis doesn't say anything, just scoots back enough for me to reach his paper.

"So, what do you need help with?"

"Everything." He states.

"Here, I'll help you find some good websites to help you with your topic. Then, later we, er, mostly you, will organize your poster board to display your entire project. The minimum is to at least seven categories describing your-"

Louis groans and plops in head onto the mattress, muffling his complaints. "I hate this."

"Lou, come on, mate." I slightly encourage him, making this situation a little easier for him - but I failed on doing so.

"If I could cry I would, but I can't because I'm a man." He says back, not lifting his head up.

I smile at his still witty character, "We can take a break if you want. I can obviously see how much stress this is putting on you." I say, over exaggerating.

He finally picks his head up and rolls off the bed, "Please, my brain muscles are already hurting."

I chuckle, "Alright, let's head downstairs, I'm starving."

With that, we walk or somewhat speed-walk down the stairs in the kitchen - my favorite place in the house. My parents aren't home, and therefore trust us 14 year-olds to take care of ourselves. But that also means we can do whatever we want, within reason, and they can't tell us no.

I grab the potato chip bag - which is only suppose to be eaten once and a while for the sake of health reasons, but Y.O.L.O - and rejoin Louis in the living room. Sitting by his side, he turns of the television to 'Thats 70s Show'. The episode is a rerun, meaning that I've already watched it a million times but it never hurts to watch them again. I hand Louis some chips which he gladly takes in his hands.