Wrists to Hold // Louis Tomlinson

three

hope you all are having a wonderful summer so far! I can and will be updating this every saturday. I may update extra during the week though. enjoy :)

three.

I have cut off my tongue so I will stop making promises I cannot keep. I have cut off both ears so that I may stop believing the sweet nothing's that I am fed. Yet I cannot cut off the gateways to my heart. I need it pumping, I need it feeling, and I need it alive.

"Robyn, are you going to come over later?" I look over at the corner of my eye to see Zara. Sitting beside her is Rosemary. Rosemary has long blonde hair. Rosemary likes pink. Rosemary is feminine, sweet, perfect, you fill in the blank.

Each time we meet we cause a paradox. Night meets day; darkness meets light.

We are both aware of that. It makes us smile.

"Um." I pause. "S-Sure."

Rosemary smiles. "Have you lost the thrill of canceling Friday night plans?"

"It is exhausting being social." I say, picking at my salad. It doesn't fill me like it should.

"Introvert." Zara snorts.

"Extrovert." I shoot back.

"Enough." Rosemary chuckles, with a smile. I elbow Zara a little as she smirks.

"My brother has the car though, so we'll have to ride back to my house with him."

"No problem."

I start to tune out.

"But we can't leave until after my brother's practice."

It didn't seem like a problem until five thirty rolled around and we started to head back to Zara's house.

* * * * *

I sit in Mr. Jamison's room now, critiquing and grading essays from the back corner of the room. I make a note with my red pen - whom, not who - and look up to see Mr. Jamison tapping away at his computer. I always help him grade during my study hall.

"Did you like Fahrenheit?" He murmurs.

I drop my red pen on accident, and reach down to pick it up. "I loved it."

"I feel like the seniors need a reality check." We both laugh in every key.

Mr. Jamison is the only teacher here who somewhat likes me, and I somewhat like him. I've been in his classes since my freshman year. He makes me appreciate literature even more. He is also a good friend of my father. The two go way back and Mr. Jamison is the reason why my parents are together now.

It is weird to think that my parents had lives before me.

"Are they really that bad?" I inquire.

"The seniors?" Mr. Jamison laughed. "They are animals who need to be kept away from all other inhabitants of this earth."

"Not a single person?" I raise my eyebrows up a little. Mr. Jamison crinkles his nose up a bit.

"There's Louis. He doesn't seem smart if you were to judge him by looks, but get him away from the crowd and he doesn't sound like a caveman."

I smile. Mr. Jamison tends to exaggerate, but I feel he is speaking the truth. Get him away from the crowd and into an empty hallway, and he'll make you promise to stop cutting.

That was when I looked down into my pile of grades essays. Sitting at the top was his. I had given him a perfect score and complimented his metaphors. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Zara took my arm and Rosemary trailed behind when Zara announced that her brother's practice was over and the fun would begin shortly. My messenger bag rested on my hip as we traipsed through the halls that had seen children like us before. Rosemary was a pink, I was a burgundy, Zara, a gold; we melted and churned together to make a new color of youth.

We reach the front of the school to see Zara's brother's car ahead. I see him loading his his bag and clears when he turns and gives us all big smiles.

"Girls night, whoop whoop!" He says in a high pitched voice, even raising the roof with his arms. I laugh along with Rose as Zara rolls her eyes.

"Do you remember our rules?"

"They don't work on Friday nights, squirt."

Zara throws her head back and groans and they jump into a quiet argument. I throw my bag in the back of their trunk as their yelling turns into laughter. Rosemary and I shake our heads before she steps away from the trunk and towards the open doors of the car. I stay back to close the trunk, standing on my tiptoes to reach the top, until a hand touches mine and a face is right beside my own.

"Hey, little bird." He says with a lopsided grin. His hair is pushed back and he has sweat trickling on the left side of his face. His eyes are familiar and wide and soft.

"It's Robyn, Louis."

"Exactly, little bird." He smirks before tossing his sports bag inside and closing the trunk for me. I step back and watch as he jogs around the right side of the car to hop in as well. Rosemary has to yell to snap me out of my trance.

I suddenly want to go home.

His hands grip the black telephone tightly as I mournfully sit on the other side of the wall. I can see him, hear him, but can not feel any trace of him.

"You'll be fine, little bird." He hums. "We'll get you out of your cage."

"You promise?" I sniff, tugging at my orange jumpsuit.

"Absolutely."