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⚡︎⟡₊ ⊹
sunlight flutters through the cracks in the blinds, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. the gentle hum of cars on the english roads and the birds singing outside stir you from sleep.
you blink, your eyes landing on the boxes and scattered items waiting to be unpacked, a silent reminder of the day ahead.
with a groan, you pull the comforter over your head, trying to sink back into sleep. just as you're drifting off again, your mother's voice echoes from downstairs.
"birdie!"
you squeeze your eyes shut, frustration bubbling up as you kick the blanket off in protest. you've dreaded this day for the past week, dragging your feet in hopes it wouldn't arrive so soon, but now here it is, and you feel completely unprepared.
she calls again while you rummage through the heap of clothes on your closet floor.
"i heard you!" you shout back, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.
you sigh, grabbing your vans and sliding them on, bookbag slung over your shoulder as you hurry downstairs.
the house is slowly taking shape, your mom having already made some friends who helped with furniture and decorations.
she smiles softly as you pass, following you to the door.
just as your hand reaches for the handle, she catches your arm.
you turn, confusion crossing your face, but she doesn't say anything at first. instead, she gently cups your face, brushing her finger along your eyebrow.
"mom, i'm gonna be late." you pull back, your expression sour. she chuckles, opening the door for you.
"i love you, darling. you'll be fine," she says, though her voice trembles slightly, as if trying to convince herself. "have fun!"
you nod, slipping in your earbuds, grabbing your skateboard off the porch wall, and heading out.
the cool london breeze hits your face, calming the nerves that had been twisting in your stomach moments before.
your thoughts quiet as you glide through the streets, performing a quick ollie here and a kickflip there.
as the school comes into view, a car pulls up beside you, matching your pace. you try to ignore it, but the sound of the window rolling down makes you stop with a screech.
pulling out one earbud, you meet the driver's eyes—intense brown, framed by a scruffy beard and hair styled in a quiff.
the silence between you stretches, awkward and heavy, as you realize you've been staring too long.
he chuckles, breaking the tension.
you drop your gaze, suddenly very interested in the dirt on your shoelaces.
