My Gay Roommate (L.S)

Eight

It's Sunday and I'm sitting on my bed, ankles crossed over themselves, back against the wall whilst my Thomas Hardy book is sprawled out onto my lap, green camo pencil case sidled up to my side, laying open with the contents almost falling out. I have my earphones in, playing some The Rolling Stones songs, eyes gazing over the book which is just as fun sucking as the first one. 

I think I may need a new scenery because I'm zoning out which is annoying. I need to read this soon or I'll be behind in the work and won't have a clue on the fuck that is going on.

I run my fingers through my hair, tying it back in a small bun because it keeps getting in my eyes. I should really really start focusing instead of singing along with the songs quietly and doodling in the corner of my notebook margin. 

I don't hear the knock on my door or notice the door opening until someone's sidling up beside me, making me jump. I whip my head down to see the famous ocean blue eyes staring up at me, frown on his face.

I remove my earphones, the song drowning out into nothing and replaced with the sound of the heater humming and the laughter of someone downstairs and outside. Louis sighs. 

"What?" I ask, looking down at the page I was on, yellow sticky tab going beside the line where she wore a crimson jacket.

He sighs again. "'M bored," He drones out.

"Then go annoy Zayn, I'm busy," I mumble, thumb against my chin as I read. 

"Zayn's gone to see his family for the day," He replies.

"Then go annoy A," I say, writing down the use of colour and its meaning about how it's been repeated twice now, the red associating with the emotion of shyness and passion. Don't know how that's relevant yet but we move.

He shakes his head, picking at a fray on my black tee. "She's not in, she went to her friend's. It's just you and me, Curly."

I ignore his comment, scanning through the chapter and turning the page, the sound of the paper crinkling as it turns, echoes around the small space. Suddenly, there's a mass of hair being plopped onto my book and Louis' eyes are staring up at me. 

"Give me attention."

I roll my eyes. "You're such an attention seeker. Go fuck a guy or something."

His eyes narrow. "No. I want to spend time with my roommate, is that a crime?"

"It should be."

He flicks my forehead. 

"You're ruining my book," I state, hearing it bend and crinkle beneath his head.

He lifts his head up slightly and drags the book from underneath him, tossing it off the bed before laying his head in my lap. He grabs my pencil case, looking at it this way and that. A few pens topple out and fall onto his face, his eyes squinting shut, lips tight when they do. I can't help the giggle that escapes and he peers over at me with a grin.

He picks up one of the pens, biting the lid off, dropping it onto his chest. He grabs my left hand.

"What're you doing?" I ask, feeling the coolness of the ink come in contact with my skin. 

"Doodling," He mumbles, brows ever so slightly creased in concentration, his lips straight and looking redder than usual, probably from the cold. 

I avert my eyes down to my hand, seeing little 'L's peppering my palm. "If you so happen as think of drawing a cock, I will push you off the bed."

He pouts. "You're no fun, Curly. I wasn't going to anyway." He grabs my forearm, drawing little stick men there. "Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?" He casually asks, running the pen along my wrist, drawing a really poorly drawing of a heart.