The Exceptionals

Chapter Three: Getting Hammered, Right?

Whip It - DEVO

     It's finally Friday. A whole week of school has gone by. Louis attends all of his lectures and courses,  homework strictly finished, spends profuse time with Niall playing video games, drinks stale cherry beer, and becomes the best student he's ever been—taking notes in every course and not once doodling unconsciously.

It's been wicked.

Except for one thing.

One very important thing.

Harry Styles is the worst person Louis Tomlinson has ever met.

The boy just knows how to crawl under his skin like a leech and claw at him, sucking every ounce of joy he has inside. That boy knows how to get on his nerves, managing to snap, every, single, one of them.

On Tuesday, Harry managed to "accidentally" slap his books out of his hands.

"What the fuck is your problem mate?" Louis gritted out, falling to his knees on the hard concrete to hurriedly pick up his discarded books while he felt gushing ravenous pairs of eyes watching him from afar.

"Sorry chum, wasn't watching where I was going." When Louis stood back up with his books tucked securely under his arm, he saw Harry smirking down at him, a lightning fire in his emerald eyes.

On Wednesday, Harry almost tripped him.

Louis was walking out of his lecture and on his way to the library, hoping to find some books for his art history lecture and a project he needed to work on when he shortly tripped on something fleshy, faltering scarcely but catching himself nonetheless. When he turned around he saw Harry Styles' stupid retreading back, a brunette girl giggling helplessly beside him as he tucked his hand in the pocket of her flowing bright jeans.

On Thursday, Harry choked him.

"Yeah, yeah, and then I was talking to him and I told him that it was actually shit but fuck it, he-" Louis choked off on his words by his neckline cutting roughly into his throat, making him cough and squirm uncomfortably.

"Oh shit, you all right mate?" Louis didn't pay any mind to Oscar, but instead whipped his head around to the sound of snickering. Of course, it was Harry, it just had to be Harry.

Louis was unamused.

He thought about cussing at him, yelling at him, provoking him, but he didn't feel like embarrassing himself in front of Oscar so he just let it go, turning back around and waving him off. "Yeah, I'm good, anyways-"

And Today, Louis was staying clear of him.

To be quite honest, all of this was taking a resonant toll on him.

Even if he didn't want it to.

Just in this past short week alone, Louis has been feeling more, well, miserable? pathetic? glum? As if his pills weren't working as efficiently anymore. He's been having a shorter temper lately, his mood stabilizers not toiling well for him—and he even snapped at his sister when they were fighting over who got to use the stupid remote, which they always do. They fight constantly over silly little discussions like that and Louis never gets mad 'cause he knows it's all fun and games, and he always ends up winning anyway, but yesterday he yelled at her, harsh, feeling terrible immediately and apologizing profusely.

To be frank, he was beginning to hate himself a little more each day. Honestly, before school, Louis was fine, before Harry, Louis was happy. He didn't even feel like he was carrying this dreadful disorder, but now, it's all he's reminded of, constantly.