DISCONTINUED
Alina Fairgrieves-Byers and Gabriel Burton have learned to expect the worst, but that doesn't make things less disappointing.
𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄
( 𝐎𝐂 𝐗 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑 )
( 𝐎𝐂 𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐘𝐄...
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early morning scramble
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. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧
There were only twenty-four hours before Gabriel Burton would make his way over to Lenora Hills, California, and he hadn't even begun to pack yet. Not because he was dreading the trip—quite the opposite, actually; he hadn't been this excited about something since he'd first kissed Will. Nor was it because he'd been too busy with school to do so—despite the extraordinary amount of homework his teachers seemed to delight in giving out, he was good enough at time management that he still had a few hours to himself every day. In actuality, it was because he'd been so busy with his grandfather and little sister that caring for them took up the rest of this time.
Which was how Gabe found himself running around his room at 6:30 in the morning, throwing clothes into the suitcase laid out on his bed.
His room typically wasn't such a tornado—he usually liked to keep it rather neat, with his clothes placed neatly within their drawers, his books arranged alphabetically on his bookshelf, and his posters straight on his navy-blue walls—but today, it was the pinnacle of any high school boy's. T-shirts and shorts were strewn about on the floor, several comic books were stacked haphazardly on his nightstand, and a few of his pillows had been knocked askew. As he scrambled about, checking and double-checking to ensure he'd packed this shirt or this pair of socks, he tripped over his backpack and nearly stepped on the brown package he'd left on the floor. He only managed to avoid it by pinwheeling his arms.
A soft curse left his lips. Good job, dumbass, he mentally chided, lifting the package and setting it safely onto his bed. Of course, you'd nearly ruin Will's present. This is why you don't leave things to the last minute.
Though it hadn't exactly been his fault, Gabe should have still been more prepared. Though he was lately feeling strained—all of his responsibilities seemed to be pulling him in different directions, as if he was being stretched by one of those medieval torture devices—he still should have figured things out. Maybe if he finished that checklist Ms. Kelly kept trying to convince him to make, he would be more organized.
