Letters to the Author -Larry Stylinson

chapter two

"I want each of you to write a creative writing piece about anything you want. It must be at least five thousand words, and it's due by the end of the semester. Any questions?"

Louis let his fingers linger over the keys of his laptop, unsure whether he should raise his hand or not. Did it not matter what it was about? He was glad one of his fellow peers sitting in the front asked the same question.

"As long as you don't bore me with it," the professor said, before giving a quick smile and sitting at his desk. Louis looked at his watch. Only two minutes left until the end of the lecture. He found himself wanting to stay longer, as this writing class was his favorite. Learning grammar wasn't his favorite thing in the world, but learning how to structure and use description and emotion was very enjoyable.

He smiled softly, gathering his laptop and fixing his glasses that were sliding down his nose. He used to have a pair with wider frames, but he decided that cracking them on the tile floor at work was an opportunity for change. Therefore, he found himself buying a pair of glasses that weren't as big. He ended up liking his decision.

When the professor dismissed them, Louis sighed deeply and stood up, letting all of the other students file out of the door before he followed quietly behind them in his black vans with black laces. 

He had decided, since it was Monday, that he would dress casually. He had on a pair of black jeans, rolled up past his ankles, and a thin white shirt that hung loosely at his sides and was so long it almost reached his knees. He loved shirts that were too big for him; that's how he bought them. The sleeves were rolled up a bit, showing a bit of his shoulders. His hair was fixed in a messy fringe, brushed a little and styled with his short fingers.

Overall, he felt lazy, in a good way. Staying up late reading always made him feel tired, and he couldn't decide whether it was worth it or not. Lucile had fell asleep beside him at about ten, not bothered by the light sending a dim yellow glow throughout Louis' spotless dorm. 

Louis had always been bothered by clutter, ever since he was little. He couldn't stand the way his sisters would lay their wet towels and dirty clothes all over the bathroom and their bedrooms, and pillows and blankets from the couch would lay abandoned on the floor. Louis would always follow along behind them, picking it all up behind them and grumbling mean things, but in a loving way. It was worth it whenever he sat in their beds, reading them bedtime stories and running his fingers through their hair, through their hair that was always so soft.

But now, he wasn't at home, he was a few hours away at uni trying to make something of himself. Well, if being an English teacher counted as something.

"Louis!" The boy whipped around at the sound of his name, completely clueless, as nobody ever spoke to him. He always ate lunch in silence by himself, his ear buds pushed in his ears and a book in his hand. He adjusted his glasses, that he had decided to wear instead of his contacts that he actually didn't like quite that much. 

"Yeah?" Louis asked, meeting eyes with a boy about his height with bleached blonde hair and a crooked smile. He stood with confidence and his grin literally radiated happiness, and Louis couldn't but let that attitude rub off on him. Just the smile from the boy was causing his heart to warm up a bit, despite the slightly chilly weather outside.

"I saw you in class today, and the funny thing is I've never notice you before," the boy began, and Louis couldn't help but smile to himself.

Right. Funny.

"But I was just wondering if you could give me any ideas for my creative writing essay? I'm sure you already have a million brilliant ideas, what with the way you were typing all that stuff down on your laptop. You looked as if you had discovered a cure for cancer."