Up In Flames [Original Story] ✓

A failed attempt at normality.

Going back to school is going to be hard. It's going to be one of the hardest things I've done. I've been trained to handle all kinds of torture, how to survive in the wild but never have I thought that the lesson  I needed the most was how to face someone after you basically tell them you can't be together.

Time seemed to pass hellishly slow, the clock hands moving so slow you could practically see them shift, instead of moving so quickly you don't even notice them go by. I roll over in my bed again, waiting for the alarm noise to rip apart the silence like it always does, but still, nothing.

I try to go back to sleep, it's early in the morning so I could still get a few decent hours, but my brain says otherwise. Like it's been saying the whole night. I try to sleep, to close my eyes and rest, but all I can do is think. Think and think and think more. It's useless, thinking won't help me, I know that, but I can't avoid it. 

After more agonising hours past, the alarm finally rings and I let it ring. I let it ring so they won't notice I was already awake. Rolling slowly to my side and finally grab it, clicking the button so it stops. I hear faint sounds from around the house, signifying that I had successfully woken up everyone along with me. 

With quick movements I get up from the bed, lazily throwing the sheets on top of the bed to make it look somewhat made. I eye my wardrobe and pull out a black and white lace-up sweater, black jeans and my black boots. I throw my hair into a messy bun and prepare myself to go with some casual nerd jewellery (as June so nicely puts it).

I grab my backpack from the corner of the room, yanking it and swinging over my shoulders. I'm not 100% sure I packed all the correct books yesterday, given that I would much rather be eating ice-cream and rewatching shows then packing school stuff, but I honestly couldn't care less. 

I walked down the stairs with a rigid stance, each step making me more nervous and uncomfortable than the next. I start plans in my head, how to escape seeing Akiro. It's childish I know, but I can't think of another solution, facing him is definitely out of the table.

Setting my brain on autopilot I begin making breakfast for myself and June, and prep my dad's morning coffee. Several minutes later, when everything is set and I'm sitting alone at the table, legs shaking up and down, June finally appears, walking down the stairs.

She doesn't look particularly happy, not like she always does, she looks tired. Her outfit choices mirror mine in a way, they both look simple, like we just picked random things, and I start to think we both did.

June always relays on me for moral support, I know that because I rely on myself. It's like, if the ceiling of the house is gone, then who's there to stop the rain? I'm the ceiling, I've always been the stable one, the one that doesn't get into trouble. I can't image how Junes feeling. If I'm crumbling then how's she handling it? 

She has a red, velvety, shoulderless sweater, ripped jeans, and dark red vans. She pairs it with a black belt, black flower earrings and a simple black velvet choker. Her white, sticker-filled bag was already sitting on the downstairs sofa, as it always is. She lacks the usual makeup, and her hair isn't particularly styled, just free.