Louis Tomlinson was the world's worst morning person. It was a morning routine to throw his alarm clock across the room, before waking up and realising he had probably just smashed the shit out of his phone by doing so. This morning was no exception. He must really have god on his side because there was yet to be a single crack in his beloved phone, and that thing had been launched to Antarctica and back. It was currently 6:37am and Louis' sitting at the foot of his bed, staring into his closet absently. He hadn't woke up once, thanks to the help of his trusty medication. However, it never stopped the nightmares and memories than consumed him.

He didn't have the luxury of waking up either, he had to live through each traumatic moment as they played out. He woke up this morning with his hair completely matted and sticking out in a thousand different directions, his head aching and still as tired as fucking ever. He still was yet to have a shower, eat breakfast and get his belongings together for his classes for today but he was considering just calling in sick. There was no way in hell he was going to deal with a bunch of pubescent wankers. He often wondered why he took this job as a teacher, he could be working high up in the government, or even as an actor. He could be spending this morning in a tub full of hot models and drinking expensive champagne. But no. Here he was at 25 years old, sitting at foot of his bed at the crack of dawn, hair wild, bags under his eyes and no will to live.

He ran his hands over his face, groaning loudly to himself before forcing his body to move to the closet. He stared at the array of clothing in his wardrobe. He shouldn't be complaining, he's got a good life. He has a life better than most people. At least he has a wardrobe, and a nice place to live in. He angrily grabs out a grey sweater and black chinos, they'll do for today. The shower is the only thing he looks forward to in the morning because he stands under it for almost an hour, and is approximately half an hour late to work because he just can't get out. But he's restless this morning and not even the shower can calm him down. It's world record timing. 10 minutes and he's climbing out of the steaming hot shower, and drying his body and then hair with the towel. He goes through his morning routine of brushing teeth and shaving and all the other bits and bobs before he goes downstairs. He really isn't hungry. He feels nauseous but he knows if he doesn't eat this morning, he'll be sick later on in the day. It's a snap decision but he opts for a croissant that's still in the cupboard from the other night. It's small and will do its job, and he can eat it while he continues reading the assignments that he needs to mark.

With his mouth full of croissant, he leans back into the couch holding his folder and starts to read. The vivid memory of almost texting Harry last night crosses his mind and his stomach churns uncomfortably. He cannot believe he almost did it, actually, he's still guilty for calling Harry the other day and even more guilty for not deleting Harry's number from his calls list. He was going to have to talk to Harry today about taking up tutoring and explaining why he hadn't completed it. He really did have more than enough time in class, but he was too busy texting. Louis rolls his eyes, pushing the thought of Harry out of his mind and continuing reading. The people in this class were either really ignorant or extremely dumb because not one single person was meeting the criteria that was needed. It was the first piece of assessment and they were complete bullshit. Louis hated being the bad guy, but he was going to have to be in order to get this classes overall grade up. He wasn't going to finish the year with a grade average of a C. He wants an average of an A and he will be the rudest prick he can me, in order to let that happen.

By the time he's finished his croissant, Louis is placing his folder in his work satchel, and placing a pair of vans on his feet. He doesn't even bother wearing socks, he couldn't care less. They're too much effort to put on and then get off when he gets home. Soon enough, he's walking out the door and climbing into his car. He drives in silence because he doesn't want to hear a single thing this morning or else he will probably break something. The sky is miserable again today, which makes Louis feel even better. Note the sarcasm. He drives slowly through the back streets, procrastinating because he really doesn't want to go to school today. God. He sounds like the teenager he was back in high school. He hated school, he had the worst time imaginable. Everything about High School life made him want to have a fit. So who knows why he thought becoming a teacher would be brilliant, but he did it anyway. Maybe so he can be that dickhead teacher and finally have control over someone instead of being the one that is controlled. There is only so much procrastination someone can do before they have to accept their fate and do it, so he cringes slightly when he finds himself pulling into the staff carpark at the back of the school. It's a shit day, he's in a shit mood and everything about this school screams shit.

It's been a long morning, but somehow it's already 8am. He reaches for his bag, locking his car as he climbs out and closes the door and starts to make his way to his office fast. He doesn't want a student to stop him, or ask him a stupid question. He is not in the mood to play nice.

"Fuck," He mutters to himself, realising he didn't get a coffee on the way here.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head and fastens his pace. He looks at the ground, thinking of absolutely nothing but walking into his office and trashing everything. It had been so long since he had been triggered, and now that it's happened again, he would be this way for a long time. He was only going to get worse. He was sick of the visits to the psychologists, he was sick of the medications and all the fancy long names they used when diagnosing his issues.

He literally breathes a loud sigh of relief as he walks into his office and closes the door behind him. He wasn't stopped by any students, Eleanor hadn't texted him. Yet. And he had enough time to make a coffee. Thanks to his trusted coffee machine and mini fridge. He had to thank not only himself for getting it, but also the school for allowing it. He begins to quickly make his coffee. He's halfway through it when he hears the office door squeak open.

"Fuck," He mouths to himself, rolling his eyes before forcing the scowl off his face and turning around.

A blonde girl is standing there, looking nervous beyond belief. She looks up from the ground, her blue eyes wide. She's covered her face in makeup, too much for school if Louis were honest. He knew her from his drama class.

"Good morning Mr Tomlinson,"

"Morning...Ms..." Louis trails off, voice becoming slightly squeaky. It was too early to remember names.

"Kate. I was wondering if you had finished marking?" She asks, cheeks turning a bright pink

"No, but I have looked at yours briefly this morning," Louis replies, finishing the last of his coffee and watching her intently.

His mind is screaming at her to get out and just stop talking but he has to remain calm.

"Any feedback from what you've read?"

Can't you just wait a week and see the feedback. Fuck, you children are so annoying.

"Look, Kate. You will get feedback by the end of the week hopefully. I'm not giving out any hints to anyone. Is there anything else you need help with?"

"Uh, no. I just wanted to ask that," Her shoulders relax slightly

"Well that's it. You can leave now,"

That came out a lot harsher than he intended but it's what she was going to have to deal with. He noticed she looked slightly offended but was relieved when she left the room quickly. Louis made himself comfortable in his chair and started to read more of the shit these students had written. He didn't make it far before Eleanor started to text him.

"Can you just fuck off too," He moans to himself, reading her message

Morning love. How are you?

Morning. Fine.

His reply is a clear indication that he doesn't want to talk. But she doesn't seem to get the message.

Are you okay?

I said I'm fine.

Louis. You're sounding like you've had a bad night again.

I had a perfectly fine night thank you.

Do you need to see the psych again? I don't want you going downhill

....I said I was fine. I'm not seeing a fucking psych just leave me alone for a while. Bye

If Louis was mad this morning, the minute she brought up seeing a psych again he was absolutely fuming. He dropped his phone into the draw, slamming it shut and locking it. He didn't want to talk to her today, or tomorrow or ever quite frankly. She was like a leech. He did love her, and there are still parts he still does love about her but he swears she's just in it for the sex. And that rarely happens enough at it is.

Louis was thanking his lucky stars he didn't have to leave his office until break, and that was because he was on supervision. His supervision started at second break, which was hours away. He hated having to listen to all the bitching, fighting and bickering. He'd genuinely get a decent amount of these stupid essays marked too.

It didn't get any easier as the morning went on. He was becoming more frustrated with each mark he gave out, and ended up smashing his mug when he heard his phone go off for the 12th time this morning.

He glared at the shards of his favourite coffee mug that were laying all over the floor just in front of the door. He probably shouldn't have thrown it there...what if someone had walked in?

He forces himself to start picking up the shards from the carpet, muttering to himself how much he hated everything. It didn't help when one accidentally stabs him in the hands, and his blood starts to drip down his arms, threatening to touch the sweater he rolled up to his elbows.

"Is this some kind of joke?" He yells to himself

"Stupid," He grunts, throwing the mess in the big.

The staff bathrooms weren't far away, and luckily he had bandages left and disinfectant. He moved fast across the building, dodging his way past students and into the staff toilets. He bit his lip as he started to run it under cold water, watching the water run red down the drain. He stayed like this for a minute until he was able to dry it and instantly start bandaging it up. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked so fucking tired and angry and done. He leaves without another word, pushing the door open and making his way back to the office.

Louis hated fate, and it really appeared fate hated him also. Because he made it halfway when he ran into the very last person he wanted to see this morning.

"Sorry," Harry steps to the side, passing Louis

Louis doesn't realise how tense his jaw is until it loosens at the sight of Harry's swollen black eye. The other eye was a little puffy, but this one was terrible. He didn't look that bad last night from memory? Louis frowns and opens his mouth to talk

"Are you okay Mr Tomlinson," Harry has stopped, looking at his teachers face full of concern

"Uh, yeah. I was about to ask you the same thing,"

"I'm completely fine, no need to ask me,"

"Completely fine? I wouldn't be with an eye that swollen and black. I've had some bad ones myself. I wouldn't have come to school," Louis raises an eyebrow

"Yeah, I'm okay. Mum said it will go down in a couple days."

Louis looks at Harry, like really looks at him. His hair is dishevelled and his skin is really pale. He looks a little bit ill if Louis were honest. His lip is slightly cut, and face swelling slightly. His eyes are bloodshot red and puffy.

"How's your ribs?" Mr Tomlinson chews the inside of his lip

"Umm...really bruised. Mum checked it out once I got home from the movies. She said they're not broken, and lucky they aren't. They're painful to touch and sometimes hurts to move around but the pain will get better and I have pain killers,"

"You shouldn't be at school Harry,"

"Its fine," Harry shrugs

"Look, at first break. Can you please come to my office? I need to discuss something with you," Louis speaks, thinking carefully about his words

Harry looks nervous all of a sudden, and fidgets with his bag slightly. Louis knows this poor boy is probably having a heart attack, but he waits for the boy to reply.

"Yeah. Am I in trouble?"

Louis has to think of an appropriate answer.

"That's for me to still decide. You need to go to class. I will see you soon," Louis waves, quickly walking away from Harry.

Louis has about 15 minutes until first break starts, and has to get his shit together. He pours himself another coffee, so he feels slightly better. Although, he's still feeling as shit as ever. And he decides to peak at his phone. The only text message he reads is the last giant one that Eleanor sent just 5 minutes ago.

You've been really distant lately. I've noticed how distracted you've been and how tired you've been looking. I need to know if something has triggered it Louis. You can't just keep pretending like it's going to go away because it's not. You need to be on medication for it or else you will honestly lose your mind. Your mum said the psychologists worked last time, and when I met you, you weren't like this so that's an indication that they work. Are you still taking the medication? I'm worried about you, I don't want us to fall apart because you can't look after yourself.

Louis replies, instantly having the mental snap that was coming full force since this morning.

Don't you ever. Ever. Talk about my mother again. I don't care who you are, you do not talk to me about my mother. You know why I'm like this, and I'm pretty fucking sure if this happened to you, you'd be more fucked up than I am. I'm not pretending anything. I am perfectly fucking fine you stupid bitch. I'm taking my medication. Nothing has changed from when I met you, maybe you just don't love me anymore. I'm a grown man. Stop acting like a leech and stop trying to control me. Fuck off.

He switches his phone off once he presses send and he feels like half the world has been lifted off his shoulders, but he still has that uncomfortable, restless edge to him. It's almost like he's on the verge of having a panic attack. He's been like this since yesterday. There's a knock on the door and he realises its break.

"Come in," He yells

Louis clenches his jaw when Harry quietly walks in, closing the door behind him and then taking a seat in front of Louis' desk. Louis leans back into his chair.

"I'll make this quick," Louis sighs

"Okay...what's going on?" Harry is fidgeting with the hem of his shirt

"I was marking the essays we were doing on the first day. I noticed how brilliant your first part was, I can tell you, it was the best in the class by a long shot. I was very happy, but I noticed you never completed it. You know that's a fail right Harry? You had more than enough time to complete it in the class, but you were texting. You couldn't even finish it?"

Harry looks suddenly less tense, which throws Louis off slightly but Harry clears his throat and speaks.

"I know it was a fail, but I'll work harder for the rest of the year to make up for it. I know I was distracted by texting, and that's no excuse. I was also really late for the first class remember? My bus never came so I had to walk in the rain?" Harry shrugs

"Yeah, you were late. I still think you could have finished it. I also think that if you get some tutoring, you could easily become dux of drama,"

Harry's eyed widened slightly

"Um, okay?"

"I just thought that might give you some initiative,"

Louis can't stop looking at the boy's face. There was no way it was this bad yesterday. The terrifying thought that Harry's boyfriend has done further damage, makes him grip the sides of his chair out of Harry's view.

"Would you tutor me?" Harry asks

"Excuse me?" Louis almost jumps out of his skin.

"You're the best person to do it. Apparently you're the best drama teacher we've had in years and I've heard great reviews from other students... so can you tutor me?"

Louis doesn't know what to say. He's slightly angry that Harry has just thrown him on the spot like this. He clenches his jaw and massages his temple, looking at all the assignments that are on his desk.

"Whatever Styles. Don't make this difficult," Louis agrees.