MIDNIGHT MEMORIES

Chapter 1

"Honestly, Mr. Tomlinson, I don't understand why you still bother to come to class. You will never amount to anything!" Mrs. Sinclair looks down at the small boy through her catlike glasses.

Louis is hurt, but, not for the first time, uses sass to hide it.

"I beg to differ, Ma'am. I happen to be very talented in the art of pissing you off."

Her eyes flash, and she is quiet for a second before responding.

"Well, Mr. Tomlinson, I think our little meeting is over. You may go home. "

"Thank god." He mutters, although home is the last place he wants to be, and he doesn't intend on going there anytime soon.

He heads out the door sulkily, hands looped around the straps of his backpack. When he looks up, he sees the most beautiful  boy in the world. His muscles bulge as he lifts books and organizes them neatly into an empty locker. His chocolate-colored curls sweep loosely across his forehead and his dimples pop as he adds some final touches. He shuts the locker door and steps back, bumping into Louis, who is standing there with his mouth open. This boy has to be new. Louis would have remembered him.

"Watch it curly." He quips and moves to step past him into the hall.

Within seconds, he is pinned up against the lockers, face to face with the green-eyed boy.

"What did you call me?" Harry asks, although both know it's not meant as a question.

"Curly." Louis replies sassily. "Because you know, the hair."

"Hmm. I like it." Harry winks. "Very original."

And with that, he steps back from Louis, and scoops up his backpack, swinging it over one shoulder as he walks down the empty hall.

Louis sank back against the lockers, dumbfounded. Had that really just happened? Shaking his head to clear it of the beautiful blue-eyed boy, he picked up his skateboard and trudged down the other end of the empty hallway.

After checking to make sure his dad's car wasn't in the driveway, he went inside and grabbed his guitar and a pack of cigarettes. As soon as he'd adjusted the house to make sure you couldn't tell he had come, he was on his way.

The ride to the graveyard is long but he doesn't care. He likes the quiet. The peaceful sound of wind whistling past his ear. The small adjustments his body makes to stay on the board. He darts through alleys and sails down sidewalks, ignoring the stares at the boy with the guitar.

When he reaches his final destination, Louis claps his skateboard to halt and picks it up, tucking it under one arm. He enters the graveyard quietly, vans padding quietly across the soft dirt. It's quiet today, not to many other mourners and not too many birds chirping today. He looks around, blue eyes taking in the peaceful scenery around him. 

Louis lays out his blanket and adorns his mother's grave with flowers. He sits down cross legged on the  blanket and pats the dirt with a sad smile before picking up the guitar. 

"It's a new song, Ma. I  hope you like it." He lets the tears fall as he begins to sing. 

"Lights out, so I cannot see."

"Storm clouds, it's killing me."

"If you were here you'd know just what to do... oh I am lost without you...."

"Can't breathe, though there's air around."

"My lips speak but you don't make a sound."

"If you were here you'd know just what to do...Oh I am lost without you..."

He sits there for a couple more minutes, crying softy into his lap, before picking up the guitar and heading home. 

_____________________________________________________________________________