Two Different Worlds - Punk Louis x Marcel -

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A/N : Wow. The feedback from the prolouge is the most I've gotten. Im glad you guys like the story! So heres chapter one!! ;3 WARNING : BRIEF SELF HARM.

-FightMyCorner

*Marcel*

As I walk into school, everything hits me. And by everything, I mean the huge-ass football team with huge-ass people. I fall to the floor with a groan and hear a familiar laugh.

Zayn.

"Trouble, Styles?" He asks with a smirk before Louis pops up next to him, mockingly mirroring him. "By the way, how are you...seeing?" Louis asks, giving a slight pause between you and seeing, as he pulls out my glasses he stole this morning.

"Give them back." I demand sternly but they both let out a snicker. "As if, Styles. Dont forget lunch, by the way." Zayn says, reminding me of my lunch beating.

Zayn stalks off, but for some reason, Louis stays behind. He looks at me, confused for a minute before he stuffs my glasses into my shirt pocket. Then he sashays away, leaving me there.

What?

I take my glasses and put them on, confusedly opening my locker. Confusedly grabbing my math book and confusedly walking to math. Which Zayn has. And Louis. Greeeeeat.

I sit alone in the back of the classroom put my head on my desk, wanting the day to be over. My head hurts.. I feel tired.. I feel my eyes close and soon, I fall asleep.

Just as soon as I fell asleep, Im awake again. My legs hurt and I hesitate to look up. I see nothing but I feel another harsh kick at my leg from the left. I look over to see Zayn with a smirk over his lips.

"Just leave me alone." I hiss, and hide my face in my hands.

Another kick. I think I feel blood but I ignore it.

My head starts to hurt. Is it a headache? No..way more painful than a stupid headache. I hear myself groan but it doesnt sound like me. I feel like someone is taking over my body.

"Styles, you okay?" The teacher, Mr. Sheeran asks me and I nod. "Yeah im fine." I say, but it doesn't sound like me either.

What?

The bell rings and everyone begins packing before swiftly leaving. I supress another groan and grab my stuff, walking to the drama room, not bothering to put up my maths textbook. Im not a huge drama person, so this is probably my least favorite class.

I sit in my seat, just wanting everything to end. Why does everyone hate me? What did I do?

I sigh and feel two people next to me. I dont have to look to know its Louis and Zayn. No one else sits next to me. I want to groan, stand up and go all Hulk on them.

Is that bad? Well, I dont care.

The bell rings and Mr. Murs comes in, a list in his hands. " Okay, class, I've paired you up fo- Oh wait, before we do that. Everyone welcome our new student, Louis Tomlinson."

Louis stands and the class claps for no reason. Its just something Mr. Murs makes us do. I soon feel Louis sit down again and I glance at the clock. An hour left...

"Okay, as I was saying. I've paired you up in groups of two and given each group a scene from Romeo and Juliet. You choose who plays who. You can change up the scene but not too much. Like if you have the kiss, you make sure that kiss is in there and that its good and dramatic. You will practice for two weeks, then preform it in front of the class for half your grade. Understand?"

The class nods, but I dont. I dont want to do anything. I sigh and look up at the ceiling, just waiting for this day to be over.

Mr. Murs starts calling out the names, some kids ending up happy with their group, some kids not-so-much.

"Louis, You're with Marcel. Kissing scene." Mr. Murs calls and I freeze.

WHAT?!

"Mr. Murs, you cant. I am NOT, I repeat NOT kissing him." I protest and Louis rolls his eyes.

"Why? Too used to kissing your pillow to kiss a real person?" Louis says, smirking.

"I do not kiss my pillow!"

"It'll probably be the best kiss you've ever had. Or the only one."

The whole class laughs, including Mr. Murs. Except me. I feel tears stinging at my eyes and I storm out of the classroom to my locker.

I grab my bag and walk out the doors, angry tears streaming down my cheeks.

Why?

Why me?

No one comes for me. I just walk home. I open the door and walk in, slamming it shut. Thank God my parents left this morning for a business trip or I'd be dead. I drop my bag on the floor and hurry to my room, slamming its door too.

I sit in front of the door, hugging my knees to my chest. I sob into them, just wanting to die. Wanting to go to sleep and never wake up. Wanting to scream until my lungs turn to dust.

(TRIGGER WARNING.)

It takes hours before I stand up, taking shaky breaths. I take off my shirt, walking into the bathroom. I open the mirror and pull out a small box. "Hello old friend.." I murmur, picking up a razor in one hand.

I turn it over in my hand, pratically gaping at its beauty. To just think to yourself, something so small can hurt you, but help you. Make you feel good.

I take it and drag it across my wrist harshly, gasping loudly in pain as the blood starts collecting in tiny dots before it begins in a stream down my arm. I feel like someone whos been sober for so long and their lips finally touch the vodka bottle.

I go below the first mark, and make another one, the blood mixing. I sigh in content, a small smile forming on my lips. I savor every single mark, sixteen new, fresh ones made before the doorbell rings.

I grab the first aid kit, quickly wrapping them up before the doorbell rings again. I put my shirt back on and race downstairs.

(Trigger end..)

I open the door to see Louis. "What?" I ask angrily.

"The project."

"Maybe tommorow. " I say and slam the door in his face.

I sigh, walking over and laying on the couch. My eyes close and I slowly drift into a painful and dreamless sleep.

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A/N : Hiiiiya! Is it long enough? I quite liked this.

Feedback is much appreciated.

Goodbye my loves.

xx