Sinking

impending

A week and a half later, I wondered why I'd been happy at all.

The day started off great, and continued that way for most of the hours I wasn't at home. It was a Wednesday, unfortunately my least favorite day of the week, but at least we were halfway through and neither Phil or I worked today.

In the morning, we were running late so there was no breakfast, but that was fine, there never really was. Each day didn't feel forced anymore; getting out of bed wasn't a fight against my sadness but simply tiredness from staying up too late living, smiling wasn't rare yet it hurt when I did it because of how much I did it, and the muscles were really getting a good workout. I felt good, and like life was finally going my way. Of course, I knew at that moment that it probably wouldn't last all that long with the impending doom of adulthood being just around the corner, but the slight youth I felt then was enough for the energy in my body to keep me moving each morning.

There was no time to greet our friends in the hall that morning; we simply parted ways and headed to our first classes. I was glad Troye was in this class and that I could now call him a close friend, and because of my change in personality recently, people like Joe weren't bothering me as much.

Our original teacher, Mr. Nem, was back, but now that I spoke up in class and actually had opinions and answers to questions, he didn't seem to hate me as much. Since our seats had been moved, I sat by Troye now, so most of the time passed by with us showing each other things on Tumblr and gushing about our boyfriends. He also asked for advice on a lot of the lyrics he wrote; he stated that this was because of, apparently, my 'creative input on the world'.

At lunch, I'd eaten a slice of pizza and some fries, as usual, and Tyler told us about some poetry slam he was going to and wanted us all to come on Friday. Phil and I both declined because of work, although I don't doubt that we would have if it weren't for clashing hours. I didn't have any other classes with any of my friends until art, a disadvantage of going to a school with so many people in it. To be honest, that fact didn't make any sense since our town was so small, but someone had told me that it was the closest school to any town on the outskirts of this one.

Art class was okay; productive since Phil and I never talk when we're immersed in our graphites and acrylics. My school project at the moment was a series I was calling "Rise and Set", multiple images of the sun rising and setting, but the thing was that you couldn't tell which. Sort of like a glass half full or half empty thing. It was amateur for me, and my teacher knew it, but it was because I was in some sort of slump where I had no inspiration. When I was sad I could always think of something that represented gloominess, but happiness was a whole new spectrum for me, and I was trying to adjust to seeing art from this point of view.

The happiness conundrum didn't last long, however.

After school, Zoe parted ways from Louise, Phil, and I, and we met up with Chris in the hallway. I was attempting to not pay attention to the strange vibes between the two boys; luckily, it had become lesser lately, and I really didn't want to attempt to butt in when it felt like Chris didn't like me all that much anyway. Louise and I were behind them, and she asked me about how I was doing as she always did; she always cared about anything I had to say.

I had barely began talking about my painting situation when Phil and Chris stopped still, and I realized we were outside.

"Philip Lester," sneered a voice and I peeked over their shoulders to see a boy who looked only a few years older than us, with long, messy auburn hair that I could tell was not his natural color.

"It's Phil," my boyfriend replied, only a millisecond of surprise that this kid was here passing over his features. That short look transformed into one of intimidating, raw anger. I was close to interrupting the situation to ask what the hell was going on, but Louise held my arm, and I could tell by the slightest shake in her fingers that this was not something to join in on.