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Who the fuck

I woke up, shivering from the cold.

I had a dream again. The same boy of young age with big blue eyes I've seen last night too. He was running through a forest. He was playing hide and seek with someone. I guess that someone was me.

My arms were ice-cold demanding from me that I rub my skin to bring some heat into them.

I guess I left the window open

The blanket got on the ground as well, somehow.

As I closed the window, I noticed the bruises. There were 3 on each of my forearms, purple with green.

I slowly gasped and stared at them quietly some time.

What the fuck

I woke up again, breathing so hard that I thought I had no air inside of my lungs.

A dream in a dream? This is already some hardcore Inception shit.

~

As I walked out the building, I took my time to admire my surroundings. Something didn't fit that picture, though.

Or may I say someone?

He was standing, again, next to my motorcycle, waiting.

"H-How did ya-", I attempted to ask.

"I -uh- followed you"

"Are you some kind of weird rapist?"

He quietly chuckled "No, I'm not"

"Leo what the fuck"

"I just wanted to make sure you got home safe last night and this morning... Well as I knew you were living close to my house, I... Well I just-"

"Dude", I laughed "You're fucking weird"

"Shut the fuck up", he said, facing the ground, "I brought coffee"

"What kind?"

"Well, the best kind", he confidently said.

I huffed as I took the paper cup from his left hand and started walking towards the college with him. It was a good thing that it was close to my apartment.

~

I brushed my fingers gently above the majestic keyboard, harmonizing the room with high, soft notes.

Piano class was going great. I mean really great. I was starting to like this college more every day.

After I finished my personal demonstration, every student clapped and the professor looked at me as I was the next Mozart or something.

"You composed that on your own?", he asked me.

"Uh-Yes"

He just nodded, looking down with a -somewhat- proud smile on his cheeks.

As others played their piece, I went through some of my works.

I never liked playing someone else's work. It just didn't feel right. I liked doing my own work and, most of all, I loved being authentic.

"Alrighty then, students. Tomorrow at 5 again. Class dismissed"

I grabbed my things, but not before I wrote a big '5 PM' on my notebook. I had to remember, right?

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