Everyone That You Left Behind ➳ Petekey (COMPLETE)

2: The one kid who knew how to make him sweat

The rapid tugging at my shoulders woke me the following morning.

"Get up you lazy fuck, we're gonna be late again!" Brendon shouted, practically spitting in my face, disgusted by my lack of motivation.

I opened my eyes slowly, exposing them to the floods of light shining through the curtains Brendon was violently opening. I raised my hands reluctantly to my eyes, rubbing the last remnants of a good nights sleep away.

I pounced out of bed with more energy than I expected, as Brendon starred at me in awe. I never got out of bed that quickly and I immediately began to regret it as my head felt light and groggy. God I needed weed.

I placed another cylinder in my mouth and lit it. Weed in the morning tasted so good!

I quickly changed out of the clothes I had been wearing for the past 24 hours, they smelt of sweat and weed, nothing peculiar. I chucked them aside and put on a black pair of skinny jeans and my favourite bear jumper just managing to stay balanced as my head threatened to topple me over any second. The entire time cylinder still balanced carefully in mouth, remember I was practically a pro at smoking weed so I had a lot of experience getting dressed and smoking at the same time without starting an unnecessary fire.

Once I'd taken my vitamins and done my business in the bathroom I jogged to the door where Brendon was waiting for me, impatiently biting the dead skin from his thumb like he always did. It looked extremely red and sore, if you knew this much about Brendon it was easy to see he wasn't the type of guy who had the best patience.

He glanced at his watch, "We have 4 minutes to get across campus dude! I'm proud of you! That's 2 more minutes than we had yesterday!" He said sarcastically gasping as if this was a new record.

I grunted in reply as we both broke into a run across the picturesque campus of Brownford as I tossed my cylinder aimlessly at the ground somewhere. This morning run was probably the only bit of real exercise I got on a daily basis. I kind of lived for it, the adrenaline and serotonin being pumped around my body making me edgy and happy at the same time. Sometimes I contemplated whether it was a better feeling than weed gave me but weed outweighs everything pretty much.

Despite this I grinned like an idiot, I glanced at Brendon and thankfully I wasn't the only one doing so. He caught me looking and we both laughed. I sprinted ahead of him turning around to smirk at him in defiance. He gave me a determined look and suddenly broke out into a sprint. Yes he may be slightly taller than me, but that didn't mean he was faster than me. I saw the doors of the lecture room just meters ahead but continued to charge at full speed towards them, holding my breath as I imagined a screaming crowd cheering my name as I approached the finish line.

I burst through the doors dramatically, loudly pronouncing my entrance as Brendon followed just meters behind. The whole room turned to face us, unsurprised by our entrance since it happened on a daily basis. Then their blank faces quickly turned back to Professor Sykes.

Professor Sykes gave me and Brendon his usual patronising look of disappointment made just for us, we liked to call it the "Pendon Death Glare".

"1 minute 23 seconds late, that's an improvement, precisely 2 minutes faster than yesterday." He slurred sarcastically continuing to give us the Pendon Death Glare.

"HA! I told you so Pete!" Brendon boomed defiantly, his words echoing across the lecture hall bouncing of each wall. I couldn't help but muffle a slight laugh at his immature behaviour.

Sykes looked at him, disappointed. "Right get to your seats quickly, you've wasted enough of my time already." He snapped impatiently.

Brendon and I both made our way to our seats which were on opposite sides of the room. Sykes always claimed that having a seating plan is much better than being able to choose your seats because it avoids distractions from your friends, and in Brendon and my case he was perfectly right. Damn Sykes! Who knew a Professor of Psychology was so damn good at judging certain situations? It wasn't all that bad though because I sat at the back on an empty row of seats, it helped me concentrate, I didn't have any distractions and I got to sit at the back and everyone loves to sit at the back, it classed me as cool, and god I was cool. Sykes knew I loved my seating placement. He would often threaten to move me to the front if he didn't think I was concentrating though. But I knew these were just meaningless threats, he would never do that to me, he would never be able to bring himself to do that.