The Side-Effect

This Wasn't Supposed to Happen

Louis stared down blankly at his notes. Its been nearly half an hour since he had tuned himself out of his Fiction-Writing class. His mind was completely devoid of any good plot or storyline for his writing assignment.  Its hard to write without any inspiration, and Louis hadn't been inspired in quite a while.

The monotonous drone of the professor's voice and light scratches of pencil on paper lulled him into a comatose state as he traced light swirly patterns onto his writing pad. He then erased them out of utter boredom.

He didn't use to be like this. Louis had always been lively and enthusiastic. Flamboyant, even. He had ideas flowing out of him all the time and enjoyed writing. I used to enjoy doing a lot of things, he thought. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a good laugh or even a decent lay. Basically, Louis' life was pretty deadbeat.

"Depression is a side-effect of dying." -TFIOS he scribbled on the otherwise completely empty page. It was from a book he was currently reading (for what must've been the 50th time), The Fault In Our Stars. He couldn't quite place it but there was something in the writing, something in the way John Green played with the words, that Louis found mesmerising. It was a book about cancer, yet in a way, it wasn't.

He'd practically devoted his entire life to reading and writing. To Louis it was a form of escape. Escape from the real world. From the judgemental eyes of society. It was like a third dimension he'd created. His own little universe where he could just lose himself in his thoughts.

But not today. Today wasn't one of those days. Louis felt completely out of it. He couldn't seem to gather his thoughts let alone put them on paper.

He was brought out of his reverie by a sharp rapping on the lecture room door, the sound echoing through the silent, seemingly hollow room.

Every head in the room turned towards the source of the sound. And... whoa. Louis swallowed. There was a guy at the door. Not just a guy but... you know. A really good-looking guy. And hell it'd been a long time since Louis had noticed someone this way but this boy was, to say the least, stunning.

Louis' day just got a lot more interesting.

This boy had chocolate brown curls were swept back across his head in the most perfect way Louis thought possible. He had sharp features and an even sharper jawline. A simple black t-shirt hung loosely around his broad shoulders, yet hugged his torso just enough to show off his toned chest under the fabric. He had legs for ages and his jeans were so tight Louis swears they were painted on.

Hot Guy's mouth was moving. He was saying something to the professor. What, Louis couldn't quite decipher. He was too busy staring at the shape of the lad's lips, curved into a charming smile. The boy was leaning on the door frame, arms folded, clutching a stack of books to his chest. His casual gait making him seem approachable. Friendly, even.

"Well, welcome to Fiction-Writing Mr Styles," Styles, "please make yourself comfortable." Professor Gyllenhaal said, gesturing to the rows of study benches, after which returning to his lecture.

The boy's eyes moved across the room, then his eyes locked on Louis'. On instinct, Louis' eyes flicked back down to his desk. Eye contact wasn't his thing. Not anymore. It was just about now that Louis realised the seat next to his was undeniably vacant. He heard a shuffling of feet and Hot Guy plopped down next to him. God dammit.

Louis tensed up immediately.

"Hi," said Hot Guy (Louis really had to stop calling him that but what other choice did he have). His voice was deep. Smooth yet hoarse and well... incredibly sexy. Louis looked up shyly to meet his eyes.