Shy||l.t. a.u.

day four

I wish we could become friends, possibly blossoming into more.

But I can't even carry on a simple conversation with you without having an anxiety attack.

I wish I was confident.

I really do.

My mind is kind of blank today and I'm just writing because well, I'm sad. Really sad. And I don't want to be sad because sadness brings pain. And I hate pain.

I'm also writing because I'm thinking about you.

I think about you all the time but today it all shot in like a wrecking ball because of yesterday.

How you talked to me and smiled. Only a little smile. But you still smiled. It was a beautiful smile as always.

I like how your hair looks today. But it looks beautiful every day.

You straightened it instead of having it in it's loose waves. I like your wavy hair, though, you don't have to change it up to be beautiful.

Your already beautiful.

I've said this probably one million times and I won't be surprised when your tired of it.

I don't have much to say today.

But I would love to know how your day was.

Mine was completely terrible.

But I saw you smile a lot today, so that was great. It brightened my day and I'm not as sad as I felt when I woke up this morning.

I love your happiness.

Your hopeful admirer,

                        Louisx

The boy wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling the soaked up tears in his dark, wet lashes. He remembers his parents fighting this morning. Not just any fight that he forgets later in his life. Fighting about him. His father was upset because Louis isn't sporty enough like all the other boys in his school. He isn't into basketball, or football, or baseball and that's why he never had the best relationship with his father. The man hates that all Louis does is write in the stupid book he hides in his room all day. He hates that Louis never had friends and isn't popular. He hates everything that Louis chooses to do in his life and the boy hates that his father just totally misunderstands him.

Louis slowly grabs his things as the bell rings in the background, signaling that the next hour must comense. The boy feels a sharp pain erupt through his skull as his head comes in contact with the desk. He lands on his back, collidng with the hard, tiled flooring before a loud groan involuntarily escapes past his lips. His eyes slowly open and he looks up the see the taunting, laughing faces of his classmates staring down at him. He covers his face with his arm and the sleeve slowly soaks with salty tears. He doesn't want to show that he's crying, that will just give them a bigger and better reason to see him as weak. The laughing slowly dies down as he stays on the ground, thoughts clouding his aching head as a gash that is etched into the soft skin bleeds profusely.

"Louis." the familiar, angleic voice whispers. He quickly wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket before flickering his eyes to the blonde beauty that stands before him. Her face is wary and pale, she looks embarrassed talking to him, and he doesn't blame her. "Get up, you've got to get to class." she says quickly. She holds out her smaller hand and Louis grips it gently in his. A tingle erupts in his palm and he swallows thickly once he's on his feet.

"Thanks." he says softly.

"Holland!" a girl calls from the door. "What the hell are you doing?" Holland glances at Louis once again with a glare before leaving quickly with her friend, leaving him standing in the cold classroom alone.