![]() Louis also thinks she acts like she is dying. At least Anemone thinks he's cute, or at least she acts like she does. But despite the confidence boost of being cute he wilts for the third time that morning, thinking about how cute is cute and not hot, and how no one else (despite his three mates and his mum) seems to think that he is even slightly attractive. He always has liked the way he dresses, a ‘punk meets nautical meets downright cute’ - and no, he wouldn't deny himself that. Slipping on his shirt, he gives himself a once-over in the mirror, lips curling up at his appearance. Louis nods, watching her leave with a slump in his shoulders and a pout on his lips. “I'm going to go make the girls breakfast, alright?” His mum gives him the shirt and squeezes his shoulder gently, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Louis sighs and nods, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye in a another defeated morning. “And Anemone will be just fine, darling, don't worry about her so much.” Louis doesn't remember having a striped section, but he can feel even more of his metaphoric flower petals falling off of him for not noticing. She looks only for a bit before pulling the desired shirt out of the striped section. Jay laughs under her breath, shaking her head as she walks over to Louis’ closet. “That's what I said?” There are lines between Louis’ eyebrows, confused as he reaches out to poke his finger in Anemones tank. Jay smiles sweetly at her boy, reaching out and rubbing his cheek, “Boo, you mean your red and white shirt, if you wear the blue one it clashes, remember?” How long do Betta fish live? We’ll get a new one if she dies, right?” His mouth just blabs the words out even though he doesn't want to say them, “and Anemone is acting really weird - and I don't know why - but I think she is dying. He sighs, tugging at the hem of his pajama shirt, “I can't find my blue and white striped shirt,” he pauses, looking over to the fish tank on his table. “Lou, darling, why haven't you finished getting dressed?” Louis looks up startled, seeing his mum walk in the room with a gentle smile that quickly turns to a frown when she sees his tear filled eyes. ![]() He can feel this heavy disappoint replacing all the air that is in him like a pool floatie deflating because of a hole, and then there is all the little kids staring dejectedly as their mums throw it out. Like how his bed seems oddly more comfortable, making him never want to get up, each crease like little coffins to lay down in and possibly never get out of and each little fleck of dust that floats by his eyes are reminding him that he needs to feed Anemone. Everything he sees just feels too vivid, so distracting. His mind is just spinning so so fast and won't slow down long enough to let him focus on looking for it. He wilts like the confused little flower he is because all he wants to do is wear his favourite striped shirt but no matter how hard he looks he can't seem to find it anywhere. And honestly, he keeps getting distracted from even looking for the sodding shirt in the first place because lately, his little fish Anemone, has been acting strange, which is strange, because Louis doesn't even know how fish are supposed to act. ![]() He doesn’t know if he put it in the red section, or possibly the white section of his closet, and really, he can’t even remember organising his wardrobe at all. He is absolutely positive it has been washed, and he is also absolutely positive that he has put it away since then, yet, it is nowhere to be seen. Which wouldn't be a problem if he could find the shirt in question. See, the problem is that Louis wants to wear his blue jeans today, paired with his red and white striped shirt. His mind is reeling, reeling, reeling and he just wants it to stop - or at least slow down - because it is becoming too unbearable for the start of a day. He is approximately three seconds away from having a mental breakdown and possibly crying himself an ocean that he will then proceed by drowning himself in. Louis lays restlessly on his bed, chewing at his bottom lip as tears brim his eyes, ready to spill over and down his cheeks.
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