Hah.

Boring.

The chatter of high schoolers fills my ears as I make my way through the entrance into the corridor.

Another Monday.

What a terrible day to exist.

I could happily be sitting in my room, reading stories, watching shows, gobbling up some more of those crisps, getting one more latte…among so many other things…only if it weren’t for this terrible thing called Monday.

I swear a week worth of school deserves a week full of weekends.

It might seem like I’m ranting, but who doesn’t feel the heat? Not of summer, but work, school, repeat, routine? Surely, I mustn’t be the only one.

Ah.

I forgot to introduce myself-

I go by Erwin, just another guy trying to get some nice grades for a good college. Maybe some scholarship? I’m not rich enough to afford it without anyway. (They call me smart, but am I…really?)

“Erwiiiiinnnnnnn! -”

“Gotcha-”

As I’m lost in my thoughts, passing through the crowd, someone, supposedly with an arm of steel, decides to pull me from the back, almost knocking my lungs out.

“What the hell, what are you-”

Phew. At least I’m alive.

“Shush. You need to hear this out… anyway, before that, why did you ignore me all weekend? I texted you, what, like 20 times? And called 10!”

Shay looks into my eyes with a look that screams- I’ll kill you if you don’t come up with a good enough reason. And as expected, I-

“Dog ate phone.”

Fail.

“Oh my god. You don’t even have a dog, ugh. Be serious for once, Erwie. And this time, it was about something meant for you, not me, but then again, you don’t care. So why should I?”

Her pouting face always makes my heart melt. 

She is my best friend after all, almost a sister. 

Almost because I’d kill her if she were.

“Hey…hey, I was just joking, ok? The reason why I didn’t pick up your calls and didn’t reply, well... it was one of those days. Sorry, I should’ve sent a text, I- I’m sorry, Shay…”

With a little smile, she gives me a pat on my shoulder, “It’s okay. I should’ve realized… let’s talk more about that later, alright? For now, well, basically it was about this Write-a-thon in the Writers’ Club. I thought I’d let you know since you might wanna participate.”

“Oh… yeah, I’ll look into it, I guess. Thanks for letting me know. ”

With that, we part ways, to be on our way to our first classes of the day. The first semester of 10^th grade has just begun. 

A Write-a-thon, huh? 

Sounds interesting.

I like writing… but…

Can I do it?

Especially with those episodes, I-

It’s so difficult to be consistent.

But if I never even start, will I ever even recover?

Get out of this rut that I’ve confined myself to.

No… 

I need to break free of this.

“102-A… seems like this is it. My class for Literature.”

As soon as I walk in, I swiftly rush over to my favourite spot—by the window. Where the sunlight shines through and nature flows in, ah, nice nice. I’m glad no one took it yet.

I am also hoping that no one takes the seat next to me, because, well… it’s the first day and not many turn up, and even if they do, they take the first couple of rows, as is usual custom.

Gotta lick some boots for those sweet LORs, after all. Lol.

As soon as I think this, as if willed by some heaven’s court order, a dashing delinquent walks in-

Wait what?

Did I just-

Never mind.

I mean, he is good-looking, objectively speaking. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledgement, and for that matter, having functional eyes.

This guy, with his dark hair and dark eyes, a total contrast to me, I suppose, currently seated next to me, barely wearing any proper clothes. And by proper clothes, I mean a uniform. 

Is he new? I wonder. I’ve never seen him.

Maybe I am staring too much at him trying to make sense of my thoughts that I don’t realise how creepy I must look.

Much not-to-my-surprise, this guy does take notice.

“What? You in love or something, bro?”

Wha-

Bro?-

I mean…

UGH.

I’m not in love with you, very much the opposite of what you just sugges-

“Just joking. You look like your face’s gonna burst any moment, like a tomato.”

A smirk plays on his lips, threatening to make me more flustered than I already am.

Of course… out of anger!

Whatever. I better stay away.

This guy smells like trouble.