I live so far from life.
-
-
-
chapter seventeen. on wednesdays, we watch movies.
-
Splits — like a division genuinely reminds me of the separation of my parents when I was too young to understand the concept of matrimony. Or its aftermath. Until recently I've always assumed all marriages end with divorces and relationships aren't and shouldn't be pursued because you'll only break up. But realistically, society would just label me as an adolescent pessimist.
AFTER ZAYN AND LOUIS'S breakup, the same day, Louis doesn't work his shift at Punk Rock; he calls out. It made me feel terrible that he's going through such a tough time as I took customers orders with mild help from Dylan working the kitchen in the back. I thought about Louis the entire duration of my part time shift. And I also thought about Liam too.
I've never penalised Liam for loving Harry or blamed Liam for the movie night flaunt, but whatever happened between Zayn and Liam was all Liam's fault, Zayn's also to blame. Because Liam's aware that Zayn's in a relationship — maybe not happily, as mosts would say, but Louis was known as Zayn's boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson. To us and around college. And if strangers we've never engaged in a conversation with were aware, then Liam had to be too.
Also, Liam has Harry. Even when they're not on the greatest terms he still has him. So, what could he, Liam, possibly need Zayn and Harry for simultaneously? He's one person. And I've never understood cheating and its morals — the overall structure of it. One person whom committed and dedicates their time to one person. How can you alter time between the two people you're affiliated with?
How can one allow someone to love and trust and latch themselves onto a persona like a leech when the reciprocation isn't in the least similar to what their emotions are signalling? How can one be okay with hurting someone who only wants to purely love them? Hurting someone who only, in the end, lost time they'll never earn back from life and society because of that unfaithful person. And how can a person pursue a person who is exclusively committed to another person?
And this is my group of friends: a reckless and tainted best friend that's also best friends with a heartless cheater who has just dated a bubbly character that walked around with his heart on his sleeve for three years who tolerated a two timing, excuse the vulgarities, slut that held a severe disinterest in the awkwardly, judgemental, observant adolescent with no idea on what he wants to be after college. I'm rather upset and disappointed at the people I surround myself with on a daily.
But this — this is my fucked up group of friends.
Overall I'm fuming at Zayn. I don't usually judge experience in this constant cycle of life, but it's Louis. Overdramatic, habitually positive Louis who's now down in the dumps. Like he's lost everything including his one million dollars— heartbroken Louis. Still I continue to work. And work and work and work until I deem myself done. The bell signals another costumer making an entrance into the not so punk rock Punk Rock.
The costumer is Harry. He beckons me over with the curl of his index. I, in the current state I'm feeling, wouldn't oblige but since I'm in my work surroundings I have no other choice but to comply. I go to take his order, but, instead, he asks me to sit across from him in the corner of the dining tables dispersed around the cafe. The atmosphere feels just like earlier at school when Zayn was around: discomfortable and cold. Absolute zero kind of cold.
Thick and tensional silence. Harry's tongue clicks and breaks the quietness we shared an nth time today since school started and ended. Greatly flustered I frown at the salubrious action. "What do you want?" I question crudely. I still feel I have a natural right to — things weren't greatly discussed between the both of us. And when we attempted to speak, other details in our surroundings distracted us.
"I thought about it – us," Harry answers quietly. Intentionally ignoring my rude and exhausted attitude. I ignore the pummel I feel in my chest, specifically in my heart. It feels peculiar having these physical and emotional and psychological reactions because of one's actions. Though sometimes it feels .. nice. That is until the inevitable hits me like a ton of bricks:
Harry's only interested because him and Liam are meant to fail. Liam has shared an interest in both my best friends and now, Harry is most likely upset at them both. Which is probably why he's thought about me, his second option; his plan B. It hurts that this is my reality.
"Liam has Zayn, now. That's why you're suddenly interested in me," I murmur hoping I can only hear the truth because it does sting. The truth hurts, but it hurts even worse when you hear the truth from another rather than yourself. Harry's eyes widen and he's quick to deny the accusation. Automatically and repeatedly he shakes his head with the confidence I desire to acquire at this exact moment.
"Liam and I are inevitable to fail, Niall," Harry speaks my exact thoughts as he grasps ahold of my hand in his larger palm. "We're not crystallised, I've told you this before." Harry's eyes land on mine and they stay on mine when he continues to speak. "Liam and I are perpendicular lines in geometry; We cross paths but continue on our separate ways like we've never met."
"Maybe we're perpendicular lines, too, Harry. Maybe that time when we were fourteen was the only time we were meant to cross paths like that."
As saying that I can't help but wonder, according to geometry, if myself and Harry are like parallel lines too. Never meant to have an intersection or a chance at fate. Maybe we're aligned separately, to be best friends but better friends to each other — where we should've never had an interaction at all.
Harry's thumb rubs and skims my hand. Protecting the protection it already has for me there. Those jade coloured eyes that look like breezing trees and bright chlorophyll stems underneath a beautiful blooming flower, gaze at me. Hard but not stern. Soft snd compliant as they bead and plead at me silently with his finger brushing vague circles into my skin. It feels nice.
He sighs as deep as Zayn did earlier today. "Ni, I just want a chance," he states with that accustomed confident aura. Something I've always envied yet desired to have since we were younger and unaccustomed to the reality moving amongst us. "At least think about it. Please."
I'm left to stare into the determined eyes of my best friend — my best friend. Already pondering an answer that wouldn't be good for the two of us. All the same I nod defeatedly, mumbling an alright that has Harry smiling translucent stars.
I STEP OUT INTO a blooming autumn. Leaves fall around me once I start on the journey down the street from my home. My destination is not so far, The Tomlinson's. I wanted to see how Louis was doing since I hadn't seen him in days. The last time was at the hall when he stormed off after talking with Zayn which, apparently and shockingly, led to an unexpected breakup.
Unexpected for the audience around them. When you're viewing into someone's life from the outside world, you don't see what the in-crowd gets to see. You lack the knowledge and the characteristics they keep exempt from reality. Maybe, I never witnessed a secretive demeanour Zayn or Louis seen in each other. But kept away from viewers. Still I go visit to see if he's alright.
Well and breathing, and hopefully, alright.
Jay, Louis's mother, opens the front door. An amiable yet sad smile brushes her face and bright eyes like Louis, and Harry's meet mine. It's a subconscious comparison, although Harry never passes my mind as he usually crosses upon it on a daily.
I always wonder if it's the same for him. Not being able to control the jitters in his stomach or the pummelling in his heart or the weight on his chest making it a challenge to breathe when he sees me. All of the apprehension and the unsettling bubbles floating around his insides. I wonder if he experiences them too. The inability to express his thoughts because they jumble then fumble then scatter themselves all together like a mess, because he's just so nervous. Like a large pit of butterflies fluttering around his intestines.
Maybe. Just maybe, he feels as I do. Encounters what I feel when I see him.
Before I'm able to utter anything, Jay speaks. "He's at his worst right now," she practically whispers. "He can use a friend like you, Niall." She opens the front door wider for me to enter before closing it softly. I walk past the threshold towards Louis's bedroom up a small set of steps.
I grow anxious to see him. To not see the usual bubbly aura that's distances Louis from every monotone member of our community. The usual content persona he floats around when he meets someone new.
I see an entirely different person lying in his bed wearing one of Zayn's sweaters he was proud to announce he stole, many months back, from him at lunch once. Louis's cheeks are a flushing red. Coated with sparkling yet dried up tears. He whimpers when I approach his bedside.
"I feel dead," Louis sniffles before I'm able to ask how he's feeling, and I was considering asking him that. "Don't ask me how I am because I'm not alright, but how are you by the way, Darling?"
As I remove my converse to lay beside Louis in a vacant space that can squeeze my exact size I brush him off. "Do not worry your little head about me," I poshly mock when I cuddle beside my good friend, intentionally tucking my head into his neck.
Louis says no more before we lay in a relaxing silence. It gives me a mildly relaxing fatigue that I've always desired to obtain constantly throughout the busy days in the week. But, I enjoy it before it lasts because that's what you're suppose to do; be grateful for everything in your life, because it has the capability of worsening.
And I am grateful, I think, looking at myself from my perspective. I'm grateful that my mom has gotten where she wanted to be in life after much determination. I'm grateful for all of Cara's accomplishments as she breaks down the stereotypical requirements for models in the modelling world. I'm grateful for most members in my family, and the friendships I've acquired over the years in England.
I'm just content I've gotten this far in general; I'm satisfied with my outcome. I wouldn't alter it the slightest. I'm sure it's because everything happens for a reason. The reason may be unnoticeable but it'll reveal itself soon.
Then Louis's voice is as quiet as a rodents movement around a home when he speaks. But I hear him and I sigh when he says, "Zayn cheated on me." Unconfident like the Louis I've never encountered before, all the same I nod understandingly. "With Liam."
"I know," I say just as quietly. "I'm sorry that happened to you. You don't deserve that." It's the honest truth. As pure as Louis's heart.
Louis whimpers again as he pouts down at me, I see him from the corners of my eyes. "What a slag," he says, scoffs judgementally. "That bloody Liam."
Just like habitual times the both of us laugh simultaneously at the expectedly abrupt outburst from Louis. Then the atmosphere rises up between us seconds later and he's smiling — Louis's smiling broadly like usual times shared between us. Soon after he's indulging in a shower before we're sprawled upon one of the couches in the Tomlinson's lounge after Jay departs for work.
My last encounter in the lounge was horrid. Horrid and horrible for two reasons. I hadn't seen The Breakfast Club in many many months or maybe years. And, possibly my group of friends are just similar to the teens starring in that film. Misunderstood and different yet unique, struggling with internal conflicts with themselves and their families — And. And that stereotypical outlook everyone gives you because of your appearance. And --
"I'm glad I can go far. Far away from here to university," Louis muses. His eyes sparkle and light up at the words he begins to utter. Mine begin to dim and dull like the sky after the sunset departs. This topic frequently, almost too frequently crosses my mind and its overbearing and stressful for me. Too stressful: my future.
Louis has a future. Whether it's dealing with photography or fashion. Occupations in those kind of worlds, where he can become easily noticed for his art. Where he can either make it big, or not. He knows, he's determined to pursue his interest as a profession in the biggest way.
The bigger picture is: Louis knows what he wants to be after college.
"How far?" I question after Louis sniffles once more. Probably he's taking ill or he's tearing up again like he did earlier from living inside his head temporarily.
"New York City," a serious look captures his facial features as he says this. "Where you're able to make it big. There's an opportunity for you. The bright lights, I want to be there–y'know?"
I nod understandingly at him, because truthfully, I do know what Louis means.
I've heard about all about the many things and the many people that roam the busy streets of New York City; the city that never sleeps. The many bright lights that contrast with the tall, tall skyscrapers. The fashionable trendsetters and mass amount of businessmen, entrepreneurs waiting to make someone's dream reality. That someone can be, will be, Louis Tomlinson someday.
"That's far away from Zayn, y'know?" I say. To see where Louis's mindset is about their relationship and how it'll continue after their first breakup. "That would mean there's no more you and Zayn?"
"No more," he confirms with a simple nod of his head. Curt and dismissing. Another sniffle sounds through the silence between us as Louis turns to look at me again. Our eyes simultaneously meet. "It hurts to say that," he admits.
A discussion of universities erupts between the two of us. I just listen to Louis ramble about the unlimited options he has for New York City because there's a lot of universities that allow students to major in fashion. Fashion, art, and photography. Louis priorly desires to be a fashion designer. It reminds me, easily, of my mother.
How her brown eyes instantly light up at the topic and the fashion world itself. About her job and the severe interest she has with designers and the new people she meets everyday. Louis's just like her in a way.
And even if I have not the slightest clue on my future and the profession I might want to pursue, I listen to Louis babble about the future. Content that he's alright for the time being. The bubbly him shows through when he speaks like unforeseen pores in a persons body, but I'm grateful. Even if I'm clueless in this exhausted society. In this sleepless/restless world.
"I won't be coming to anymore Friday night movie nights. I don't think I have a pair to show up," Louis mentions later on. Our conversation of the future dissolves and Louis is just lying in my lap with his eyes on the ceiling above us. "I don't want to see Zayn nor Liam. Does that make me an overdramatic?"
Sincerely I shake my head no. "You're not being dramatic," I assure him.
Louis whines melodramatically. It's rather ironic. "I don't want to ruin the tradition we've all created for ourselves," he says into my shirt.
"Then we can start our own tradition," I say in hopes to ease Louis's guilt. Subconsciously my fingers run through his hair, untangling a few threaded hairs. I hear Louis hum satisfyingly as I huff a wholehearted breath of laugher. "How's – what is today?"
"Wednesday," he murmurs a minute after into my shirt, incoherently, but I grasp ahold of the muttered word.
"Wednesday," I repeat more to myself than to Louis. "Then, how does a Wednesday night movie night sound to you, just the two of us?"
Louis responsively gasps. His entire body shoots up from where it was automatically glued to mine. "How'd you come up with that?" he questions amusingly.
I shrug through small laughter, not giving Louis a specific answer and he frowns at me. "On Wednesday..," he begins but trails off when his eyes look into mine. A smile brushes up his lips.
"On Wednesday," I repeat with a growing smile. "We watch movies."
"And wear pink. We have to," Louis chimes in. "Can we watch that right now?" eyes look to mine with an excited light in them like Louis's speaking of fashion or art, his two favourite things in this universe.
"Yes we can," I say, hearing Louis laugh excitedly at my compliance.
-
-
-
-
I really enjoy nouis one-on-one time. One of my favourite ships, don't judge me please ((:: .