the art of being troubled || clouis

7 || emotion sickness

    APRIL 12, 2003

She was the whirling gloom that physically weighed down his right side. As she walked beside him, a slight scowl pulling at her features, Louis thought strategically about what he should say to Violet's silent distress. Not one to whistle in the halls or smile at a teacher; the girl always had such a melancholic aloofness to her, whether she was thinking about past troubles or what today's cafeteria specials were, she never failed to look bored out of her mind. But it was something in the way her brows furrowed from time to time, her eyes stiffening with worry, that her uneasiness stuck out like a sore thumb. What approach was he going to take with his dearest friend? The soft yet serious attitude? Or the straightforward and helpful one?

How about... the one where you make her call you a dumbass?

...Bingo.

"You know, we can't look like the coolest kids at Ericson's if you're frowning," Louis grinned at his friend, nudging into her as they trekked through the halls.

Violet's response was one of a distinct, familiar eyeroll. Louis smirked with the slightest of satisfaction. He was getting somewhere.

"That's the spirit!" he cheered. "I tend to sneer at the lower-class scum that awe at my levels of coolness they couldn't dream to reach."

When Violet opted to ignore his attempt at absurd conversation, his expression faltered. Where was the exasperated remark? The tiresome quip? Something was certainly wrong.

"Alright, so, uh... what's wrong, Vi?" he asked her, his brows furrowing as students pushed past them.

"Don't worry about it," she shrugged him off, quickening her pace around the slower kids.

"You know that's not gonna happen," he responded, promptly following her.

"I said drop it, Louis," Violet glared back at him.

"Not until you tell me what's got you so down," he spoke, his tone firming up as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Is it about yesterday?" he asked but garnered no response. "That Becca girl again?"

Violet scoffed.

"Please."

"Okay, so... it's about Minnie?" he finally pressed. Violet's firm scowl suddenly faltered into a feat of worry, blinking at the ground she walked on. As she inhaled deeply, her fears orbiting her mind, she cleared her throat.

"Something's up with her," she quietly admitted, causing Louis to cock an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?" he questioned, earning a mopey shrug from the girl as he now walked beside her.

"I don't know, but it's not good," she replied through a sigh. "She keeps distancing herself and I... It's starting to get to me."

Louis paused for a moment, his eyes squinting in thought.

"She's probably just rattled about finals. Something unrelated to you, her girlfriend, that she loves dearly," he tried assuring her. "Don't think about it too much, alright? Soon enough, it'll be all peaches and cream again and you can go back to grossing everyone out with your obscene amounts of PDA," he grinned, satisfied at his attempt to cheer her up.

Violet's glower had soon softened, a silent chuckle quickly coming over her. There was no one like Louis to dig her out of her bottomless ruts.

"At least I get some PDA," she began to smirk, looking him up and down. "I don't see your arm candy anywhere."

"I think the girls here at Ericson's are a little too sweet for my candy liking," he told her, his expression evident with indifference as he assessed the passing girls in the hallway.

Violet stared at him, top lip curled.

"That's the whole point of candy. It's supposed to be sweet," she confirmed as Louis tutted at her.

"I'm my own arm candy. And besides," he folded his arms, "you're not the sweetest gum drop yourself," he nudged her, earning her smirk as they entered the assembly hall.

"Maybe some of us don't want candy," she mumbled as she glanced away, Louis turning to her.

"Which is exactly my point," he told her, a confident finger up in the air. "Or maybe some of us like the gooey centre of the hard, jaw-breaking gum drop. Like Minerva does," he nudged her once again, scouring the room for the girl herself.

"Are you saying I have a gooey centre?" Violet raised her brows at him.

"If the boot fits, Vi. If the boot fits," he stared off into the distance, a satisfied smirk upon his face.

"I know a place my boot can fit."

"Uh, no—" his brows furrowed cautiously, "that garage will remain empty, thank you," he spoke with insistence, his now widened eyes searching the hall for a place to sit. When two tufts of red, shaggy hair caught his eye, he leant down to Violet's level. "I think I see your girlfriend over there," he said, continuing to search the assembly hall.

Violet sighed, scratching the back of her head. If she didn't face the bull head on, she'd never get her answer. What point was there to beat around the bush? To temporarily soothe her anxieties? To live in la-la-land, pretending nothing was even wrong? That wasn't how Violet played life. Violet needed truth. Violet needed reality – as dark and grimy as it got. It was foolish to juke herself. Minerva was her number one priority.

Despite her shaken nerves, curiosity edged the girl a little closer to the front seats Minerva and Sophie sat in.

"Shit. Time to make things awkward," she mumbled, beginning to approach the area. But when the mass beside her was no longer following, she halted, looking back with confusion. "You coming?" she questioned while he peered around the back rows in search of something. Or someone. "Lou?" she called to him again, but watched as his eyes clicked into action.

"I'll see you after the assembly!" he assured her, making his way against the incoming students.

When a pair of narrowed, amber eyes returned his gaze from the last few rows, Louis was as mortified as he was awestruck. There she sat, arms folded, leg over the other, glaring at him from the back corner of the room. God, she had only been here not even a week and she was already managing to spike his heart rate.

Louis decided to smile at the girl, concluding that if he could come off as bubbly and positive as he could, then it had a good chance of rubbing off on her.

Clementine's head shook, her eyes prominently glaring at him and only him.

He was wrong.

It wasn't long before Louis took a breath of encouragement and made his way towards her, stepping past the legs of other students with a "hello" here and a "sorry" there to get to where she sat. She kept her gaze stern and forward, not daring to watch the ridiculousness play out beside her. When he finally got to the end of the row, he promptly stepped over her unmoving legs and took the last seat at the very end, slumping onto it with a satisfied sigh.

Clementine mentally groaned. Was she ever going to catch a break from this guy?

"There's a lot of seats in this place," she told him coldly, watching him shrug from her peripheral vision.

"But there's only one next to you," he replied, a prompt grin etching onto his face.

Clementine paused for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip. Was it fair to return his kindness with such vitriol? Of course it is... isn't... shit. She quietly sighed through her nose, her eyes deadpanning even further than they already had. Just take the bait, she thought to herself. Louis... probably isn't going to hurt you. Maybe... possibly...

"And here I was hoping the IT guy would take it," she finally joked back, allowing her visage to slowly lighten up.

Louis sighed smoothly, propping his elbow up on the backrest.

"Can't say I'm as charming as a man who wears socks with sandals, but I'll admit," he leaned in a little closer, "I have my moments."

Clementine turned her head to face him, unphased by the close proximity, and raised an eyebrow of curiosity at him. It was only when he mimicked her did she realise how much of a fool she may have been behaving as. He was just... stupidly playful. The whole "I like a challenge" thing probably wasn't as sinister as she assumed. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Louis had the same interests as Marlon, they practically grew up together. Clementine wanted friends, she needed friends, and it wasn't like she was in any position to be denying friends.

When his echoing expression couldn't help but collapse into a cheesy smile and an accompanying giggle, a strange flutter in Clementine's chest resonated, sending her controlled features into rampant concern. She was lucky enough to have his attention caught by Marlon tapping the microphone before he could see her face physically crumple. It could only be described as a sudden pang of dread overcoming her entire being while she gawked at him. A feeling as if the world was over. It wasn't, the world wasn't over, but whatever she was feeling surely told her a convincing otherwise.

Oh shit, oh no.

Surrounding students began to fall quiet as Marlon stood upon the podium, hands planted on top of it. With his confident, calm demeanour, it was like she couldn't tell how terribly plastered he was last night. Marlon went on to deliver an encouraging speech about the end of the school year, final tests – the whole spiel. He was a natural at it, as if he'd done it before, many times, in fact. It was like he was performing almost, and it came as no doubt as to why Marlon was the Head of the Sophomore student body.

"A lot of people see the finish line and they slow up – finally, they've reached the end. They can relax. Well, that's where they go wrong. You don't slow down when you see the finish line, you speed up. You go the fastest your legs can take you because if not, it's not a triumphant win. You're walking, you're catching your breath, you're not giving your all. When it comes to finals, don't slow down just because you can see the finish line. Go harder than you've ever gone. Study hard, study smart, and ace those exams."

He seemed eerily fit for the role, but that didn't stop Clementine's overhead feelings of suspicion. The 'bad day' he supposedly had, the way he spoke to his own girlfriend... that ridiculous haircut.

"Seriously, what's with the mullet?" Clementine uttered to Louis, her voice low as she grimaced up at the stage.

Louis shrugged.

"He likes it," he simply replied. "He thinks it's cool."

"Has he looked into any reflective surface by any chance?" she quipped, earning Louis' giggle.

"Unfortunately not. The Headmaster removed all mirrors and windows from the boys dorm room so Marlon wouldn't have to see the horror of a haircut we all do," he told her, a grin tugging at his lips. Clementine glanced up at him, mouth agape ever so slightly. "That was a joke. I was joking," Louis revealed, his expression straightening out.

"Really? You were joking about that?" she began to smirk. "I couldn't tell."

"Yeah," he spoke through his exhale, "I kinda do that. You know... the jokes and um, stuff... apparently it's my thing." Louis let out air he didn't even know he'd been holding in, using his propped up hand to fiddle somewhat nervously with his hair.

Clementine wondered how he could sound so awkward and suave at the same time.

"I'm shocked," she replied, moments before a teacher turned around in her seat and shushed them.

The pair averted their gazes in embarrassment as she turned back around, a restrained grin on both of their faces. When Louis eventually looked up to watch Marlon again, Clementine couldn't help but take the chance to peek at the boy. It felt creepy to steal a glance, there was no doubt about it, but the flutter in her chest from before was worrying enough to try and coax it out of her again. Was it real? Was it delayed discomfort? What the hell was it?

Puke.

Clementine's eyes suddenly widened, her throat feeling as if it were closing up. Her mind raced back to last night's game of War where he basically admitted to liking her. Liking her. What was there to like? Is that why her chest fluttered before? Is that why she keeps failing to resist his jest? Because the memory pushed far back into her mind in a moment of outrage had subconsciously resurfaced? Shit, maybe she was going to barf.

Clementine abruptly stood from her seat, causing Louis to retract his arm from the backrest as the chair slightly jutted back.

"Bathroom," she blurted out once he glanced up at her, perplexity riddling his features.

"Huh?"

"Need to throw up," she stiffly replied. "Talk to you later."

"Double huh?" he gawked at her reddening cheeks, turning around in his seat as she paced around the back and exited the auditorium.