You Put the Sun in Sunday; larry stylinson (bottom!louis) [completed]

2

Louis doesn't sleep away from his sickness. It's still very present in his body and makes no moves to leave anytime soon. It was Friday, the last day of the week and Louis simply wanted to finish his third book of the week and stay in the warm comfort of his dorm. When he walked into Dr. Night's hall, he didn't expect for the professor to request to speak to him after the lecture. Louis sits close to the front, the opposite of what he does in his other classes, and listens attentively to his favourite professor as he blabbers on about The Great Gatsby, a novel Louis' read about twelve times, he's hoping to read it for the thirteenth on Sunday.

After his two hour lecture, the rest of the students leave as Louis remains tucked in his seat with his nose buried in a book. "Louis, do you know what today is?" Dr. Night's heavy Dutch accent rings.

The blue-eyed boy peers over the top of his book, at his tall professor. "Friday."

"The date." Dr. Night shuffles around his desk before pulling out a calendar. "It's the 30th. Do you know what that means?"

Louis knew this was coming. He was about to be scolded for not starting the Christmas headline, he was still new to the journalist team but he's proven to be the most dedicated. His tardy behaviour will surely add a dent to his reputation.

"I'm sorry, Joseph," Louis mumbles and packs up his belongings into his bag. "I'll start the Christmas headline right away. If you have any good recipe websites for gingerbread cookies, pineapple ham, and those tiny macaroons, can you email them to me? That would save me a lot of time." Louis rushes up the steps, almost tripping himself.

"Wait," Dr. Night calls.

Louis turns for a quick moment, halfway up the stairs. "You're right, no one here would make macaroons. Look for some sort of peppermint shortbread cookies instead." Then he resumes to his race up the steps.

"Louis! Hold on," Dr. Night follows him to the door. "You aren't writing the Christmas headline."

The short boy slumps, pulling a confused face. "Why not?" He hopes Dr. Night wasn't second-guessing his abilities. Louis was a good journalist, an even bigger bookworm but a journalist none the least.

The professor swipes a paper from Louis' opened notebook and writes something down. "Don't make any plans for Sunday, and all Sundays after that until February. I think I found out why no one reads the campus newspaper."

Louis sniffles before wiping his nose, "I know already, the student council committee is thinking of adding another bulletin board. The journalism team is practically screwed."

"What?" Dr. Night furrows his eyebrows, looking up from what he's writing down. "No, not that. It's because of what we write about."

"So," Louis trails, leaning close to see a series of words on the piece of paper. "You're telling me university students don't like reading about turkeys, Pilgrims, and average snowfall height?"

Dr. Night lets out a hearty laugh, pushing his glasses higher on his nose and passing the paper to Louis. "I don't think so. Sorry to put down your extravagant Thanksgiving headline but I think we need to write about things people will be interested in."

Louis wonders for a moment. "Drugs?"

"No."

"The world is ending?"

Dr. Night chuckles. "No. Think about it, what do University students have as an outlet when they have no money and are under the stress of pounds of work."

"Are you sure it isn't drugs?" Louis asks once more.

"Football, Louis!" Dr. Night nearly shouts with a smile. "University students use football as an outlet."