one // hate noise

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one // tough love (edited!)


Friday art lessons were usually spent chatting away with my best friend Louisa, who had a big mouth and loved to be the star of the show. However, one particular Friday was different. The mysterious boy that I spoke to was wearing glasses that made him look really good. I didn't say anything to Louisa about it because she probably didn't even realise that he was in our class.

She tapped my arm which caused me to draw a line where I did not want to on the page, yet she pretended she didn't, and I didn't want to argue. "Olly told me that you tried talking to that nerd over there," she muttered rudely, her face scrunched up.

"He's nice," I replied. Well, perhaps it was a white lie, but I only spoke to him one time. He could just use bitterness as a defence mechanism for some reason. I never really understood why the entire student body spoke about him negatively if they hadn't actually taken the chance to meet him.

With a snort, Louisa nudged my arm again, "If you're such good friends, why don't you go over there and talk to him?" Great.

Why did she always need proof?

"Fine," I sighed reluctantly.

As I flicked my pencil onto the table, I approached Romeo and sat on the stool beside him. I mentally prepared myself for him to humiliate me in front of Louisa, who was watching like her life depended on it. "Do you remember me?" I asked.

His eyes were attached to his sketchbook as he nodded, "Mia."

My name sounded really good on his tongue; I couldn't help but let myself smile at that just a little bit. I watched as his hand used light strokes to brush the page so precisely it was entrancing, but I had to break the tranquillity to ask a question that I thought about quite a lot.

"Why do you like to be alone?"

He replied quickly, "Hate noise."

I narrowed my eyes... was he trying to send me a message or what?

"Okay..." I said slowly, "Just let me know if you think I'm talking too much."

For the first time since the last time I spoke to him, he looked up at me with his confusing eyes and stopped sketching. There was amusement in his eyes but his lips didn't follow suit. How could his eyes get any more confusing? Why was he glancing at me like something was funny?

"I think you're talking too much," he stated, biting on his lower lip to hold back a smile. Playfully, I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Whatever," I mumbled, turning to face Louisa who had her mouth wide open. She was probably shocked because she didn't think I'd actually speak to the boy, let alone appear (appear) to be having friendly banter with him. I turned back to face him.

"Who's that girl?" asked he.

I sighed. I mean, it appeared that Louisa was my friend but I didn't like her, not at all. But she had trapped me in years of her friendship, only because I was too kind to tell her what I think of her to her face. Whenever we argued, she'd always 'win' and for some reason that meant I couldn't leave her side.

"That's Louisa. Why, do you like her?"

A look of utter disgust flashed onto Romeo's face as he quickly denied liking her, but it was over in the blink of an eye. He licked his lips and continued sketching.

"I've seen how you act around her, that's all," said he, with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Of course he noticed. He was someone who spent all his time alone, it only made sense for him to have become observant. How long had he known that I didn't really like having Louisa around?

"She's a little overbearing," I told him honestly, not quite understanding why I decided to tell him everything so openly. Perhaps all I needed was someone who was willing to listen, which is slightly ironic because it hadn't been long since Romeo clearly told me that I was talking too much. Now he was asking for more.

"Why don't you tell her?"

"Dude, she'd butcher me and I value my life!" I exclaimed, shuddering at the thought of Louisa's hands around my neck. Telling her was like suicide.

It appeared that Romeo didn't have plans to continue the conversation as he didn't reply. He probably realised that he was the one maintaining the conversation this entire time, and decided to build his wall up for me again. I didn't really want to be friends with him if this was how it was going to be.

I slid back to my seat next to Louisa who smiled happily and clapped her hands together like a little child. "I'm going over there. I want to talk to him too!" she squealed.

She nervously walked over to him, not bothering to sit down on the stood. She held her hand out for him to shake, however he didn't shake it. He muttered something so quietly only she could hear. He had that amused look on his face again as Louisa came stomping back to her seat.

"You said he was nice! Did you tell him to say that?" she asked, her face stern.

"What did he say?"

"He thinks I'm 'overbearing'! He doesn't even know me, for goodness' sake! Do you think I'm overbearing?" Louisa shifted her gaze to me again, sadness filling her eyes to the brim. I couldn't believe he told her what I said! What the heck was wrong with this loser? Why purposely try to ruin friendships in such a brutal way?

As I opened my mouth to reply to Louisa, the bell rang. She was too overwhelmed by her emotions to stay in the classroom. In anger, I stormed over to the mysterious boy who was tucking his sketchbook into his bag.

"Louisa told me what you said," I growled, blocking his path so he couldn't just leave the way he did last time.

He rolled his eyes seductively as he swung his bag over his shoulder, barely even looking at me, "You should thank me."

I scoffed, "Thank you? She was really hurt, Romeo."

All he offered was a shrug. "There's this little thing called tough love," he muttered coolly. As he walked past, he purposely rammed his body into my shoulder, which made me stumble backwards slightly. "She'll be fine, trust me."

And with that, he left the classroom.

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