It was time. Actually, it was ten minutes too early, but Marcel wasn't really going to take that into consideration. School started in roughly forty-five minutes, but he always liked to be out of the house and at the bus stop about ten minutes 'til pickup. He straightened his glasses a bit and glanced around him to the crowd of students standing in a huddle a foot or so away. They all seemed so eager to flock together, though he himself was usually left out. It didn't matter to him though-he didn't mind. In fact, he'd really rather be a few feet away from everyone else. It helped him concentrate. It was when they broke that barrier that he started getting uncomfortable. The bus finally came to a sputtering stop by the covered waiting area, and everyone piled on, leaving Marcel with an awkward anxiety of praying that there was an empty seat somewhere that wasn't surrounded by people who would try to snag his backpack and play a game of tossies.

It was really pretty cliche. The cool kids were nestled in the back, footies and the leaders of the cheering squads trying to touch their junk. Then of course it inched up with students in lower cliques until finally, sitting in the front seat alone, was him. Again, it wasn't all that bothersome. He clutched his backpack tightly in his arms and sat quite straight-good posture is the only posture-while he stared out the window. They had a few more stops to make throughout town before arriving at the school, and then the bus ride was over. This anxious sitting next to forty wild animals would be finished for another seven hours. Six of which would be an amazing time in which he would get to do the things he loved-maths, language arts, and sciences-one spent sitting quietly by himself on the lawn with lunch because his life was complicated and he really didn't have anyone to sit with.

Unimportant.

The bus stopped again and he couldn't help but glance up at the new arrivals. This was an unsettling bunch. Most of them were punk-ass druggies from a shadier spot of town, but one was the captain of the high school's footie team and-damn-he made Marcel question a few things about the stirring in his pyjamas in the morning. It wasn't like he followed any sort of logical sexuality, he was far too busy studying for that sort of a distraction, but Louis Tomlinson was positively the most gorgeous human being the nerdy boy had ever laid eyes on. He realized he was staring and quickly flicked his eyes down, his hand lifting to adjust the side of his oversized spectacles. Just because he didn't follow a sexuality didn't mean he was free from teasing. The teen hugged his backpack a little tighter, wondering if Louis had even noticed his slightly gaga'd expression. Or really, the better question had to be, did Louis even really know he existed? Just because the Football team taunted him from the far corners didn't mean their Captain was in on it, right?

For four weeks, the only thing Louis Tomlinson saw was four white walls, worn posters hanging off them. For four weeks the only colour he saw was the colour red as his blood washed down the drain every night, red circles of sadness being taken away to the ocean. The only people he saw were his family, and even then, the only person who really came in was his mum. He was sure that she told the others not to come in, and he was glad, young girls don’t need to see this him. The only food he ate was the cereal his mum sometimes forced in his mouth and the soup she would have to beg him to eat. She didn’t know that most the time he just threw it up anyway. For four weeks, he was just existing, he would cry and then go numb and then get drunk and then sleep, it was a cycle of nothing and it was slowly killing everyone that had to witness it.

He wasn't allowed to see Harry, management had told them that because the belief of Larry was getting so real and so much bigger now, that they just had to take every precaution that they could. Having them spend their break apart was a way to make them seem like they weren't together so management took the opportunity and of course, Harry driving all the way to Doncaster would definitely raise fans eyebrows, so that was a no. Louis just felt so lost without him, and even if it was just four weeks, it felt like a forever to him and he just couldn't take it.

Harry didn't know Louis had started cutting, he did it on his thighs so it was hard for anyone to see, really, and Harry and he hadn't had sex in a while so that helped him hide it too... he was just dreading the day that he did find out, that he would be so heartbroken and that just killed Louis.

Today, his mum wasn’t accepting him just laying in bed crying. “Get up. You have a meeting." Louis buried his face in the pillow, “Don’t wanna." She groaned and pulled the blankets off to reveal his skinnier body, it hurt her so much to see her baby like this, “Get up or I’ll call them to have the meeting here and they can see what a mess your room is, would you like that?" Without waiting for a reply, she left the room. Louis sighed and got up, literally having to drag his body up. He pulled off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. He looked to his mirror, coming close to nothing but skin and bones…

After cleaning himself up and getting dressed appropriately for the occasion, his mum drove him to where he needed to be. He was late, a lot late, but his mum was getting him there no matter what it took. He slowly walked up the stairs of the building after getting out of her car, then making his way to the elevator. Finally he was on the right level.

Louis was overwhelmed with excitement. It was his first day at his new job-having finally landed that teaching gig he'd spent five years at university for-and he was finally setting all of his decorations out on the table. He did that cliche teacher thing where he scrawled his name out in looping letters on the board, "Mr. Tomlinson", and then sat back to wait for his students to pile in. He was nervous, of course, but more or less he was beyond excited. In fact, he was such a mixture of both that there was a slight shake in his hands as he lifted his coffee mug for a sip. The lack of students would be much more offensive if it wasn't unGodly early before classes were even supposed to start.

The young teacher brought a hand up to his freshly shaven face and let his cheek fall into it. This really wasn't very exciting, he decided, as the time ticked on until his first lesson would begin. He'd already gone to the pisser, laid out the ice breaker activities for his students along with perfectly sharpened number two pencils, and printed out copies of his syllabus which were laying beside the original paper. What else was left to be done. Louis caught the vague scent of his after shave from his finger tips and suddenly wondered if perhaps it would be too strong for his students. Should he wash his face?

No, no. That would be stupid. And of course it would take slightly longer than the remaining ten minutes before class started and the entirety of his first period would see him with his head in the sink. Maybe he should just ask them if the after shave was too much? What could that hurt? Would that be awkward? Would he get a straight answer? Would the guys call him a faggot and the girls giggle at his failure as a human being?

famous x fan au starter (for theyxlied, ideas in inbox)

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