Leaves, Seasons, and Dead Trees (BxB)

8. - Tragic (Violin) Hero

"Well, I started out / Down a dirty road,
Started out / All alone."

- "Learning to Fly" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers -

*****

⚠️TW: trauma, anger issue

*****

Samuel

I'm abruptly torn from the depths of my dreamless slumber, my eyes snapping open at the sound of Matty's pained whimper.

Struggling to clear my blurry vision, I turn my head to the left and find Matty rubbing his shin, where it collides with the sharp edge of his wardrobe while attempting to balance a toothbrush in his snout. Shifting my gaze to the window, I expect to be greeted by warm, inviting hues seeping through the partially exposed glass. Instead, the world remains shrouded in the muted glow of an early Saturday morning. Frustration surges within me at the cruel reality of waking up too early, and I express my silent agony by dramatically dragging my paws across my face.

Matty, having abandoned his efforts to alleviate the pain, senses my discomfort. With a snoutful of foamy toothpaste hindering his words, he greets me, "Sho, yo finawee awayke."

I rub my eyes, my voice hoarse as I grumble, "Spit out the foam first, geez!"

"Hehehe," he chuckles, casually making his way to the kitchen sink.

Reaching out for my phone, carelessly left on the nightstand, I power it on and emit an audible groan as the screen unveils the ungodly hour of 6:18 AM.

The rush of water crashing against the sink sounds like a scream as I ask Matty, "Why the hell did you wake up so early?"

Matty takes a moment to rinse out the lingering toothpaste foam, leaving a thin residue on his pearly whites. "'Cause we planned to go for a jog, remember?"

The realization dawns on me that I had agreed to this morning's jog the day before. "Ck, asuuu, asu!" I curse under my breath, dramatically smacking my temple.

Struggling to pull myself out of bed, my body feels unsteady and craves more sleep. My eyelids wage a battle to stay open, and I sway back and forth like a pendulum. However, as the sound of rushing water from the sink once again invades my ears, I surrender to my exhaustion, my face disappearing into the comforting pillowy abyss as a futile attempt to block out the world.

Caught in the liminal space between wakefulness and drowsiness, a firm prod on my shoulder jolts me awake. Through a narrow opening, I catch sight of an impatient Matty, already clad in his simple jogging attire: a heather gray 1/4-zip dri-fit pullover and black compression shorts. His claws dance across his phone, likely preparing a playlist, while wireless earbuds cling snugly to his pendulous ears. Peering closer, I glimpse his sleek gray-and-white sneakers, a testament to his readiness to hit the pavement. Meanwhile, my attachment to the bed grows stronger, prompting me to nestle my head back into the pillow and emit a groan. "I just want to sleeeppp..."

"Sam, it's 6:30, come onnn." Matty secures his phone in his running belt and tugs on both of my arms. Too drained to resist or voice my protest, I allow him to pull me out of bed, my knees bending as my feet touch the cold carpeted floor. It takes me a good ten minutes to gather my strength, don my unremarkable jogging outfit, and splash water on my face. With Matty carrying our small water bottle from the mini fridge in his running belt and my pack of cigarettes stowed in my pocket, we finally make our way out of the dormitory. Buffeted by the crisp autumn breeze, I close my eyes and breathe in the lingering scent of petrichor from the previous night's rain, intermingled with the essence of asphalt and morning dew.