1. dark days

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"we're sleeping through the days and sinking like a ship.

we're wasting away bit by bit."

- dark days // pup

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michael was sleeping soundly and comfortably. his pale cheek was squished up against the soft pillow and his bare leg hung off the side like a floppy piece of cooked pasta. his black duvet was all bunched up by his upper body because he liked to cuddle in to something when he slept. his mouth was agape as he let out strident snores. this was where he felt at peace, sleeping deeply in the comfort of his bed that was more like a best friend.

"michael gordon clifford! what in the lord's good name are you doing still in bed?" his mother's voice shrieks and that sure gets him to awaken. he flops like a fish, letting the warmth up his blankets fall off of his naked body and to the side. he struggles to see for a second, rubbing his eyes as he looks at his mum in confusion.

"did you set your alarm?" she questions with a look that ted him it was a rhetorical question. the boy blushed for a minute when he realized he was completely naked and his mother was clearly looking at him with a judging expression.

he looked the the table beside his bed where his digital clock that he's had since he was 10 stood.

9:02 am

school started at 8:45.

michael shouted a quick "shit!" without taking into consideration that he shouldn't be cursing in front of his mum. he didn't really care at this point. last week he was dragged into the principle's office and scolded for disrespecting schedule. he was told that if he was late for one more class he would be given a hour of detention. it doesn't sound that bad, but ms evans runs detention and if you knew anything about her, you knew it was like hell on earth.

"don't swear, michael. and hurry up." and with that the stressed woman left the room.

the blue haired boy stood on his feet quickly and dressed in whatever clothes he could find on the hard wood floor around his bed. that ended up being a pair of dirty black skinny jeans and a big grey t-shirt that had rips in it. he's had the for years and used to only wear it to bed. but lately he just wanted to wear what was comfortable. he brushed his teeth harshly as fast as he could and completely disregarded his hair before running down the stairs, nearly tripping and falling on his way.

"bye, mum." he grabbed a peeled orange from the kitchen counter - his mum peeled him an orange every morning - before kissing her on the cheek.

once he had his shoes, bag, and skateboard, he was ready to make his way to school in a rush. there was a rule for first period classes that a student couldn't be marked late until half an hour into class, so he still had a chance to make it. luckily, he didn't live far from school. he jogged through the halls to his class with his board in hand and bumped into his teacher when he reached the door.

"ah, mr. clifford! it's good to see you." mr. barrin smiled at him, and michael couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. he was a good teacher in the sense that he didn't try to be the cool teacher but he wasn't an asshole either. he seemed to really care about the students, partially because he was also one of the school's guidance counselors.

"sorry!" he nodded and walked in to the room, the teacher closing the door behind him.

he walked toward his seat as he checked the time on his phone which confirmed that he did make it with technically two minutes to spare. mr. barrin continued to teach his lesson - more like rant - about how irish literature was possibly, in his opinion, better than any other literature in the world, but michael hardly listened as he got to his seat.

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