DNF Oneshots (Dreamnotfound)

Real Life Experience

((George's pov))

I woke up to the sky brighter than usual, the mornings becoming lighter with the Earth changing its axis. The frosty air blew around the house as I died for a warm, but quick shower. My mornings go by terribly fast, as I always stick to the same routine. Wake up, shower, brush teeth, style hair, get coffee and breakfast, finally waiting for my last alarm to go off. Oddly enough this never ever got boring. I could repeat this routine day after day and yet I would never think of it as tedious.

    However today, the time did slow once I had sat down at my desk to watch a TV series before school started. Coffee in my hand, my eyes falling closed then opening again, just faintly staying awake for that last alarm. The show starts running, the noise sounding muffled, my mind mush from lack of thoughts. Hopefully this coffee kicks in soon. 

    After one episode plays, I'm joyous that my alarm rings. The loud ring sounds like morning birds on a spring day. I rush to get my shoes on, double checking my backpack a few times over again just to make sure I have everything. The sun pushes through the hazy clouds, a periwinkle blue highlights the trees.

    Stepping outside, I'm welcomed with the thirty degree wind digging into my skin. My flannel sleeves rolled up as I dared to push my limits, knowing how cold I was going to be still never going back inside to grab a jacket. Grabbing my arms, hiding the goosebumps, I start walking down my short drive way to wait for my bus.

    The yellow flashing light, beam red as the ear piercing brakes squeal to a stop. The door opens as I wait awkwardly.

    "Good morning." I smile up at the bus driver in thanks, he nods in appreciation and waits for me to choose a seat before driving up to the next stop. I scan the seats, looking at my friends knowing they would wake me up better than the coffee I chugged that morning. I make eye contact with Bad and without saying anything he stands up and lets me take a seat nearest to the window.

    I look up and over the seat, knowing in front of Bad and I, sits Sapnap and Ant. They bicker back and forth about something in a show while Bad and I talk about how our weekends went. The morning is already feeling better than before, smiles and laughter fill the group.

    The first two periods, each an hour long, go equally as fast. Thankful as the fourth bell that day rings, demanding we move onto our third period. This class is my favorite. Maybe due to the people in it, or maybe due to that fact it's the easiest one I've taken. I pass a couple other friends along the promenade, waving and smiling at them. The sun is also blinding everyone as we move through the campus, hoping we get inside before our arms fall off because of the cold.

    I enter the building closest to the office and library, lucky for it to be my only class on the first floor. Walking down the short hallway, glancing at the posters on the walls full of club advertisements, I turn into my class. Looking up at everyone in there, I catch Dream on his phone, scrolling and possibly texting someone. I scoot by him, my chair on the outer side of the classroom. Once I'm sat, he turns his phone off while everyone else enters the room and the bell rings. Anyone who enters, late.

    The class is super simple, an easy A some students may say. All we usually do is take notes on business or marketing or have discussions which are all very fun. When we have to work, everyone of my friends meets at one table and we all joke and play more than getting our work done. This is exactly how this day went, Dream often sketching something on my paper as we both became bored of the teacher's luring words. This was until the teacher ended his lesson, telling us to work on something from the week before. Cash registering.

    I pull the trays full of fake cash and change off the window sill and pass them out to everyone in our row of desks, Dream waiting patiently for me to hand us ours to test each other with. By mistake I grab the loudest of the trays, the clamps holding the fake money in always slamming closed; sounding like gunshots if someone didn't know any better.