Sorcery (Louis Tomlinson)

ix. Clash

I was exhausted when I woke up a few hours after Louis had dropped me off back home considering I had stayed up way later than I usually do. Dad seemed confused at my zombie like appearance, his eyebrow raising as I weakly lied and said I couldn't sleep the night prior. Dad only handed me my breakfast and made me take my pills before ushering me back to bed, letting me have breakfast in bed and sleep in more while he went to work.

I woke up several hours later, my alarm clock reading 11:35 on the dot. I forced myself to get dressed and look presentable, I was going out to town with Louis after all.

After brushing my teeth and splashing some water on my face I spent too much time rummaging through my closet for something I thought Louis would like. I settled for my usual sweater and skinny jeans after deciding it was too cold to try and dress cute. I brushed my hair and put it up in a ponytail before wrapping a scarf around my neck to keep warm.

I rubbed my hands together as I went downstairs, trying to warm them up from the frigid cold air that seemed to only get colder as the days passed. A cup of hot chocolate seemed to work fine in heating up my body as I drank my mug, making a second mug for Louis whenever he came over.
In the meantime I busied myself with my book I had been trying to read that still lay on the coffee table in the living room.

I had never been a real big reader growing up, and I think that was one reason why I became so interested in photography. There were no long passages to read, no tiny text and elaborate words to decipher out in your mind for hours. There was just one image that made you feel something, and I think I liked photography so much because a picture never told you how to feel. One person could look at a picture of a city skyline and feel awe, while another person could feel saddened by it. Like they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, just the words are entirely up to the person who sees it.

Still, I found the book interesting, and I was determined to finish at least one book in my life (truth be told I never finished any of the books Dad assigned me. I could hardly understand Charles Dickens, much less Nathaniel Hawthorne.)

About fifteen pages and an empty mug of hot coco later, I decided to wait outside for Louis. I bundled up in a warm jacket and hiking boots before sitting outside, waiting for the familiar pair of sparkling eyes and dizzying smile to appear just outside of the forest tree line. I took his mug of hot chocolate with me, just so he could have something to keep him warm in the cold.

Not long later, Louis walked out of the forest, just as bundled up in a beanie, scarf, and winter jacket as I was. His jeans had slight dirt stains on them, like he had tripped in the forest, and his sneakers were covered in dirt and stains. His nose was turning pink from the frigid wind blowing across his face, and I thought it was just the cutest thing.

I stood up as he approached the back patio, a smile on my face as I held out the mug of hot coco to him. Instead of smiling and taking the mug from my hands, Louis instead stared at me like I must be crazy.

"Mira, tell me you weren't sitting here waiting on me for long. It's freezing out here, you should be inside." Louis urged me, taking the mug from my hands and hurrying me back into the warm cabin. He kicked off some of the muck on his shoes before he came in, sighing in relief when I let him inside.

"I wanted to wait for you. It's not that cold." I argued, Louis raising an eyebrow and smirking when my arms wrapped around me to conserve heat. They quickly fell to my sides when I saw Louis' look, my conscious deciding to change the subject.

"Just drink your hot chocolate." I told him, sitting down at the small kitchen table. Louis followed suit, a frown on his features troubling me as he stared at his mug after taking a sip.