Wish You'd Met Me First (boyxboy)

Chapter 2: Unexpected Encounter

A/N: The pictures might not be consistent but bare with it for me, it still shows what I imagined. 

The harsh beep of my alarm pulls me from sleep. I groan and blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of a dream I can't quite remember. The sun's just beginning to peek through the blinds. For a moment, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching out the stiffness from the night before. My phone sits on the nightstand, the screen blank. No new messages, no notifications—just the quiet of the morning. I'm almost grateful for it, not that I have lots of friends anyway.

I shuffle to the bathroom, the cold tile floor waking me up a bit more. I splash water on my face, the coolness refreshing. As I look at myself in the mirror, I try to push away the thoughts that have been swirling since yesterday. Don't overthink it, Aiden. Just focus on the day ahead.

I grab my toothbrush and start my morning routine, letting the familiarity of it ground me. Brush, rinse, spit, repeat. It's mechanical, almost mindless, and that's exactly what I need right now.

Downstairs, the house is quiet. My parents are already gone for the day 'early meetings', as usual. Geez, I feel like I live alone. There's a note on the kitchen counter from my mom:

"Have a great day! There's breakfast in the fridge if you want it. Love, Mom." 

I smile faintly at the neat handwriting before opening the fridge.

A bowl of overnight oats sits waiting for me, I chuckle, its my mom's attempt to make sure I eat something in the mornings. I grab it and a spoon, then sit down at the kitchen table, the silence of the house pressing in around me, it's lonely on this big house.

As I eat, my mind drifts back to Brett. He'll be at school today, of course. With Blaine. I push the thought aside, focusing on the texture of the oats, the sweetness of the berries mixed in. Why does that even matter? We're not even friends.

Back upstairs, I pull on my jeans and a t-shirt, the same as I do every morning. My closet is full of clothes, but I always gravitate toward the same few outfits. I grab my backpack, checking to make sure I've got everything I need for the day.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I pass by, pausing for just a moment. The reflection staring back at me looks the same as always—same brown hair, same tired green eyes.

You're fine, I tell myself, giving my reflection a small nod. You've got this. 

The drive to school is uneventful, the neighborhood slowly coming to life around me. Kids heading to the bus stop, parents loading up their cars for work—it's all so routine, so normal. 

As I approach the school, the building looming ahead, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever the day might bring. 

I join the stream of students filtering through the front doors, the familiar hum of school life surrounding me. I spot a few guys from the team up ahead, laughing about something, and I force a smile onto my face as I approach them.

Here goes another day on this hell hole.

After talking with the guys with the same boring topic, I went to class and for the rest of the day? Honestly, it's all a blur. Class after class, teachers droning on, me barely paying attention. I just keep my head down, try to get through it.

The final bell rings, and students flood the hallways, spilling out of the school doors into the warm afternoon. The sun is high, and the air is thick with the sounds of end-of-day chatter. As usual, I take my time packing up, letting the crowds thin before I head out.