Welcome to camp CHAOS

The blonde boy

Richie jolted awake to the sound of a horn, blaring in his ears and jumpstarting his pulse. He immediately launched out of bed, looking around the small cabin, which only fit four people, and trying to make his brain understand the lack of threat from the other occupants' dark silhouettes. Exhaling, he moved his hair from his eyes, hoping that no one had seen his reaction.

Micky's voice sounded from somewhere in the darkness, rough from sleep. "We get the showers from five to six," he paused to yawn. "The girls get them from six to seven." Groans resonated from every bunk in the cabin. The lamp next to Stanley's bed got flipped on, resulting in even louder grunts and moans from the group. It sounded like a zoo exhibit.

"Is it just me, or is that guy a little....ominous" Bill's question was hesitant, and he said the words with the backward confidence he usually had when he thought he was approaching something correctly. Richie hid a bemused expression, not really in the mood to converse with him, especially about someone they barely knew. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to give himself some time to wake up. Slowly, the cabin became a hub of activity. The boys milled around like zombies, half asleep and not used to being up at this time in the slightest.

"How is it fair that the girls get to sleep for an extra hour?" The question was almost unperceivable in Stans drowsy voice Micky from the other side of the cabin was brushing his teeth. "It's not too bad, man. We get guaranteed hot water." the voice was muffled by spit and toothpaste, but somehow it still sounded dreamy.

Richie slipped on his prison-grade shower sandals, grabbed his small bag of toiletries, and walked out the door, breathing in the fresh morning air. Everybody found their way to the lengthy shower house in the faint dawn light, not uttering a single word to each other.

There were six stalls lined up against one wall, and on the opposite sat an equal amount of sinks and grimy mirrors. Micky was already in the first stall, humming what sounded like an ABBA song to himself over the showerhead's drone. The short shower curtains might have been transparent once. Now, they were coated with two decades of mold and mildew.  Richie didn't mind in the slightest.

Stationing himself in the last stall, he hung his bag on the nearby hook and extracted a bar of soap and shampoo from it. As he showered, he found his thoughts centering on Micky. he was so COOL. he liked street fighter. He loved chocolate but wasn't a fan of hard candies. Growing up in Flint, a small town, he helped raise his younger siblings while their Mom worked long hours on various jobs. His dad was an alcoholic. Pink was his favorite color. And he preferred sunrises to sunsets. 

Richie couldn't remember focusing on anything for this long, let alone another person. he just had never been able to relate with other people on a greater level. Especially somebody he just met. He knew that he even had friends because he met them as kids before they caught on to what a smart mouth weirdo he was.

Now, Richie figured that they all felt loyalty to him due mainly to the decade of friendship between them. Eddie, of course, just thought he was fun. Richie smiled to himself when he thought of the health-obsessed boy, who was probably his favorite person in the world, then soon got upset that he couldn't come to the camp.

He didn't realize how long he had been tuned out until the formerly warm water began to run cold, the other boys now filling the rest of the stalls. They all reacted strongly to the change of temperature, jumping and howling, but Richie was fine with it. WEAK, he thought to himself. 

Shutting off the now freezing stream of water issuing from the rusty showerhead, Richie took his time to dry off in the privacy of the stall. Within a few minutes, his teeth were brushed, and his deodorant was applied. Richie paused for everybody to go back to the cabin before pulling out some brand-new prescription contacts. Richie has become exhausted from being called names most of his life simply because of his glasses, so he decided to do something about it.

It was challenging to put the contacts in, but he got them in after a couple of minutes of struggle. He looked at himself in the mirror; it was weird being able to see well without glasses. He enjoyed it; his mood suddenly shifted from blue to joyful. He pushed his glasses in the back of his bag and left.

Richie made it to the cafeteria. He ate his breakfast in silence, but then Micky sat down across the table and started humming to himself. Picking at the sausage and biscuits sitting on his tray, Richie let himself look up a few more times than he should have. Brown eyes met blue and broke apart in the same breath. The baggy Led Zepplin t-shirt looked perfect on him, and Richie was extremely jealous. He figured the blonde got all types of girls, wherever he was from.

"The biscuits are more bearable if you put honey on them." The charming voice pulled Richie from his thoughts, startling him. A small jar of the substance was slid gently across the table, and the dark-haired boy smiled in thanks. "Is this your honey?" He asked, lifting the bottle and examining it.

The blonde smiled and nodded, looking down at his own tray of lonely biscuits. "I've gotta have something to add to these dry ass biscuits" Richie liked Micky's smile. His teeth were straight and nice and white, Richie stumbled on his words. He mumbled a small thanks and smothered the biscuits in honey, immediately understanding the appeal.

They carried on in silence again. Well, Richie did. Micky continued to hum to himself. It wasn't bothersome. He could carry a tune reasonably well. They had been the first in the mess hall, and not even the cook was around when they arrived. The food was served on the line, however, so they filled their trays and sat down.

Micky examined Richie's soft face without him realizing it and noticed something off. "hey, what happened to your glasses?" Richie looks up from his tray, and their eyes join yet again, but Richie swiftly glances down then answers, "I'm trying contacts today." Micky whispers, an understanding "hm," then continues eating.