i'm not the prettiest flower but i'll do

you're the one who bumped into me

mood: mean by taylor swift

Monday, August 13th, 5:30 am

The sound of a blaring alarm clock ricocheted off the walls of Louis' bedroom and vibrated into his ears. He immediately shot up from the sudden noise and was met with darkness and the faintest stream of sunlight peeking through his curtains that hit the floor just a few feet away (or whatever was considered sunlight at five in the damn morning). Louis grunted, not wanting to get out of bed and face high school. It was his senior year and he already knew it was going to be hell.

He hated school. He liked learning and stuff like that but hated everything else about it. Ever since middle school the 'cool kids' would constantly tease and bully him. He hated it. He hated the school teams, clubs, organizations, band, everything. Though he never cared for them, there was a pang inside him that wished he could be them, belong to something. But he didn't. He didn't belong in a school of hatred and discriminatory people. Or a place where people focus solely on their reputation than the care for others and quite honestly he found it sickening. Sickening that people would rather be popular than make people feel wanted. High school doesn't last forever but shitty personalities do.

Louis stepped out of bed and winced from the sudden pain shooting through his body. "Shoot," he mumbled to himself when looking down. He looked to his bed sheets and cursed again, removing the sheets and putting them in the hamper to wash. From his closet, he grabbed a new pair and stretched them over his bed. Louis went to the bathroom he had in his room to clean himself up for school, taking a quick shower and putting on a plain white t-shirt, loose skinny jeans, and a black hoodie. (He never really liked clothes that were too tight).

He grabbed his hamper from his closet and headed down to the basement to start his laundry. His mum greeted him from the kitchen. "Why are you doing your laundry again? Didn't you just do it last week?" she asked poking her head out of the doorway to see Louis opening the basement door.

"Yeah, well, I uh- I don't like having dirty clothes," he stumbled with his words and hurried down to the basement to start the wash. When he got into high school he started doing his own laundry for his own personal reasons. He didn't want his mum folding his underwear anymore or seeing things he didn't want her to see. When loading the washing machine, he took a glimpse at his bed sheets and winced again. It wasn't something he was proud of nor was it something he liked to see, so he sprayed the stained spots with extra cleaner before putting it in the machine. He started the wash and went back upstairs.

"Breakfast honey?" his mum asked when he entered the kitchen.

Louis walked towards the fridge and looked at his mum then to his dad who were sitting at the table eating the breakfast his mum made. He grabbed a water bottle and slung his backpack on his shoulder. "Not hungry." He looked at his dad. "Gotta go to school," Louis said walking out of the house.

"He can't even eat at the table with me Laura! This is getting to be ridiculous," Charles exclaimed throwing the newspaper on the table.

"When has he ever eaten breakfast with us in the past few years? It's nothing personal Charles." Laura scooped some of the food onto her fork. "Give him time, he's healing. Slowly, but he's healing," Laura said reaching to hold her husband's hand on the table.

It was a ten-minute walk to school from Louis' house. He personally loved the walk to school, because it was calming and put him at peace before facing literal hell. But today his mood wasn't the best because he didn't think he would make it out alive throughout the day. The whole walk consisted of him playing every single possible scenario of how his first day would go and try to come up with solutions of survival. Once he stood in front of the building, he contemplated whether or not he should skip the first day, first week, first semester, or his entire senior year. Yes, it may sound dramatic, but no one understood just how intense it was for him. How hard it was to be Louis Tomlinson.