Literature

pocket full of possibilities

"Harry," he sighs.

maybe he is
just as disappointed
in me
as i am

"You can't just copy and paste from the internet. That's academic dishonesty. In uni that would get you thrown out."

a lot of things
are dishonest
especially people
what's one more
dishonest thought

"I didn't have time to work on the paper."

"Getting shit faced wasted isn't a valid excuse. I'm sorry."

getting wasted
is just a way
to ignore the pain
of wasting away

"Listen, I can't fucking fail this class."

"Then put in a little more effort. You're smart Harry but it isn't reflected in your work."

"What in the hell do you suggest I do?" I fold my arms over my chest and huff, annoyed with him wasting my time.

w
a
s
t
i
n
g

"Geez I don't know, maybe write something that comes from your own brain." He taps gently on the side of my head. "Anything up there?"

"Hilarious," I sneer. "This is ridiculous. My girlfriend is waiting on me."

"Life is one big waiting game. Perhaps, you should learn how to be patient."

Each tick of the clock is one march closer to death. I don't have all the time in the world. Even when I want it to stop it doesn't.

Tick tick.

hours are scars
that burn into days
and become searing months
my body aches
with each passing year

The gears keep churning in my mind.

"I'm giving you an opportunity to redo the assignment. It's the same prompt but you'll have to actually read the book this time. I know what Spark Notes is, I wasn't born yesterday."

"Seriously?"

"I don't usually do this thing but you have potential. You're a pocket full of possibilities. Please just do the assigned reading and follow the rubric guidelines."

"Thanks," I mutter.

He flashes a smile before writing something down in his notebook. He glances up at me for a second and my cheeks flush.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow, correct?"

"Uh yeah."

"Don't do anything stupid today. At least wait until Friday night to party. I would prefer you not show up to my class hungover."

"Whatever."

"Check the attitude Styles," he calls out as I pivot on my heel and head on the door. I chuckle to myself and run into my best friend Louis in the library.

"Hey Haz, what took you so long?"

"Mr. Malik," I grit. "The prick kept me late after class."

He arches his brows in amusement and I elbow his side.

"Not like that you idiot," I have to redo that assignment."

"What's going on?" Liam appears out of nowhere (like always), drapes his arm around my neck protectively as my fingers skim over torn spines on the shelf. Always the bigger brother I never had.

"Harry is pissed he had to stay late in Lit. Apparently be failed his last essay," he rolls his eyes sassily.

"I'll help you," Liam offers.