Paint Me A Story ➳ Larry & Zouis

prologue: the first day

prologue: the first day

There's a quiet boy in Mr. Tomlinson's art class; actually, perhaps mute would be a better word.  On the first day of class in the Fall, the professor introduced himself to his students by his first name, Louis, explaining how the 'mister' tacked onto it made him feel old.  Despite the crinkles next to his eyes (laugh lines, of course) and slight stubbly beard, he was only twenty six— which was fairly young for a college professor.

Louis paced back and forth across the large room, scanning over the room of fresh faces.  The classroom was fairly large, filled with everything from pottery wheels to blank canvasses to books on contemporary and historical artwork.  The floors and walls were coated in various paint splatters that Louis had never bothered to wash off.  He claimed it gave the room  'character'; his students argued it was pure laziness.

His students remained silent as Louis walked around, cold, blue eyes scanning their fidgety faces.  They shuffled around, looking at one another, wondering why it was so still.  You could hear a pin drop.

The young teacher leaned against his desk at the front of the room.  There were thirty or so art novices in front of him.  He clapped his hands together, which were still covered in dusty brown clay from the pot he was spinning earlier.  

"Why is everyone so quiet?" Louis spoke up, lips curling into a smile.  The students seemed to sigh in relief, happy that someone broke the tension.  "My name is Mr. Tomlinson, but feel free to call me Louis.  Mr. Tomlinson is my father."

The class laughed and cracked smiles.  

"Now," he continued.  "Today, we're going to discuss twentieth century art and the Post-Impressionism movement."

The class groaned and Louis just chuckled.

"Oi, stop your whining.  The first half of the class will be free time.  You can draw, sketch, paint, make an ash tray out of clay, make boobs out of paper mache, I really don't care, as long as it deals with art.  And, no, mobile phones are not considered artistic," he added as an afterthought.   

Again, the class laughed, and Louis grinned back.

"While you work, I'm going to walk around and introduce myself to you all individually.  Any questions?"

A girl at the front desk raised her hand.  She looked fairly young, probably a freshmen, Louis assumed.  She had curly blond hair that fell just beneath her shoulders, and sparkly pink lips.  She wore a flower printed dress and cowboy boots that rose to her knees.

"Ah, yes.  What's your name?" the professor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Madison," she answered with a smile, showing a row of perfectly straight teeth.

"Madison," Louis repeated.  "What is your question, love?"

She cleared her throat.  "Are you single, Louis?" she asked, blushing slightly.  

The class giggled and some snorted at the remark, while others remained genuinely interested.

Louis chuckled.  "Um, no. I'm in a relationship.  I'm engaged, actually."  He held up his hand, pointing to his ring finger.  A silver band wrapped around it with initials carved into the side.  Madison, and a few other girls as well, slumped their shoulders in defeat.  

"Right," Mr. Tomlinson breathed out.  "Any more questions before we get started?"

Silence.

"Okay, get to work," he smiled, switching on the radio.  Soft music filled the art room.  In several studies, it had been shown that listening to music while trying to be creative increased brain activity.  He turned it up a bit louder, so all the students in the back of the room could hear, too.

He strutted around the room, introducing himself to each and every one of his students.  He asked them for their full name and three fun facts about them.  He didn't like to think of them as objects filling up his classroom, but rather actual people with thoughts and feelings.  

He tried his best to pay equal attention to all of his students, but for some reason, one boy in particular captured his attention the most.  He was seated in the far corner with a sketch pad in front of him, charcoal pencil vigorously scribbling across the crisp, white paper.  He was the last student who Louis had to introduce himself to.  His wavy brunette hair was messy and loose, pulled back in a flag bandanna that suited him nicely.  He was focused on scribbling something in his notebook.  He only got one quick glance over his shoulder before bandanna boy slammed his sketch pad shut and stared up at his professor with cautious green eyes.

Louis cleared his throat.  "Sorry about that.  I didn't mean to startle you.  I was just checking out your drawing."  He offered him a soft smile as an apology.

Bandanna boy just stared at him blankly, arms tucked over his drawing protectively, as if Louis'd snatch it up at any minute and burn it to ashes.

Louis coughed at bandanna boy's lack of reply.  "Right, so I'm Louis and I'll be your teacher this semester.  And who are you?" he asked, eyebrows raising.

He blinked at the older man.  His throat bobbed up and down as he pointed to the small name printed at the top of his schedule.  Harry Styles.  

Louis stood there, wondering why he didn't just say it out loud.  Maybe he had a cold?  He did not appear to be sick, though.  

"Your name is Harry?" Louis asked, startled.  He nodded, hair flipping across his forehead.  "It's nice to meet you, Harry."

He held out his hand to shake bandanna boy's— er, Harry's— hand.  Harry's countenance immediately turned cautious, but he shook it anyway, just barely, before pulling his hand away and tucking it back into his sweatshirt pocket.

Louis gave him a smile and walked back up to the front of the class without another word.  He began his lecture about Vincent Van Gogh's techniques, but found it hard to focus on teaching.  He kept glancing over at Harry, whose attention was back on his sketchpad once again.  He scrunched his eyebrows and drew, concentration centered on the paper.

The professor couldn't help but wonder what secrets Harry kept harbored there.