chapter one

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"In the eyes of childhood friends, we find our true selves."

Paint there was not enough of it. But then again what can you expect when the world around you is bland and mundane. A single light illuminated the painfully white room, it was way too bright and stunk too much of chemicals. Why his mother thinks she needs to change the interior of the house every few months he'll never know.

Garfield frowns as he steps in a puddle of paint that his mother left on the sheet of paper that was protecting the carpeted floors, that was the third pair of shoes ruined in just a week. Despite the frustration, he was a mama's boy through and through which meant he was too scared to say anything.

A knock on his door broke him from his train of thought stopping him from removing the paint from his new trainers, His mother had entered the room. Marie Logan was what many would imagine a working mom to look like. However, today with her light blue jeans, previously black shirt that was now stained with paint, and her long dark locks falling to shoulder length. She looked more relaxed than he'd seen in years.

"It's time for breakfast," she said softly from the doorway. But as she opened the door the paint bucket tumbled over, causing a large murky puddle. Marie unbothered by the mess, stood it up and wiped her hands on her shirt. "You don't want your pancakes going cold, do you?"

Garfield drops the rag carelessly and steps around his mother before she could say something else or make him feel guilty for not showing up when she was on her break in the clinic last night.

And Garfield prays to whichever God is listening that his mother doesn't mention last night. He wouldn't be able to give a good reason.

"Thanks for the pancakes, Ma," He said brightly as the cutlery cluttered loudly on the plate. Garfield stood up and straightened his t-shirt, annoyed that it was already slightly wrinkled. "I should probably go, I don't want to get any more detentions."

Just as he was about to walk towards the front door his mother called out to him.

"Gar-" she clears her throat and slowly turns, The boy avoids his mothers' pleading gaze by staring at the little specks of paint on the hardwood floor beneath his feet. Marie sighed as she stood holding a pamphlet in his hands. "I'll be home late tonight, another PRIDE meeting,"

He mustered up a fake smile and nods attempting to hide the physical relief that flooded within his veins, it made him feel horrible. He quickly said goodbye once more and kissed his mothers' cheek before walking out the door. Once he got on his bike he released the breath he didn't realise he was holding.

One thing is for sure, His mother was disappointed.

●□◇□●

Fridays held a special place in Garfield's heart. They brought with them laid-back lessons leading into the weekend and offered a chance for him to unwind. It was a day for relaxation, allowing him to sleep in without the obligation of track practice. Garfield had a passion for running almost as strong as his love for food.

As he ambled over to his friend Victor, who was engrossed in conversation with some football jocks, Garfield's posture was relaxed, reflecting his easy going demeanour.

Victor spots Garfield approaching and shouts, "Hey, Beast Boy! Over here man!"

'Beast boy' was what everyone at school called him and he didn't hate it, but he also wasn't particularly a fan of it. The origin story started when he was challenged to a race to eat as many sloppy joes as possible in the bustling middle school cafeteria. Amidst the chaos, Some kid shouted how my stomach is a 'Beast' and since I was quite short at the time 'Boy' blended well. You can guess who won, the nickname kinda stuck.

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