Spectrum: Boyxboy Chronicles

Hair danced with each click upon laminate floor, the morning rays glimmering in the corridor through walls of pellucid windows. Sun cascaded down on his shoulders and the warmth brought a small content curve to his lips. The light encased him in a comfortable solitude illuminated in radiance, today’s aura not superfluously far from tepidity yet ardent enough to solace the ants wriggling beneath his skin until they were merely tingles. It was such a beautiful feeling in the early morning, one that was extremely rare, especially for a Monday. Call him a pessimist, but the only thing left to float in the mess of his mind was ‘now… who’s going to fuck this day up?’

His lanky figure wouldn’t normally be occupying the halls at this time in the morning. The rote was coming to school and waiting in the group’s designated area for meeting. Today however, numbness had encased the tips of his fingers, and his tongue ran over what felt like cold pavement, so he had rushed to first aid to retrieve his emergency container that he clasped in his hand. Two shiny oval pills were popped into his mouth, and he swallowed them with a tilt of his head, much like a pelican devouring its catch of the day. It was a close cut from starting off on the wrong foot. Despite that, the title of ‘Perfect Day Killer’ was still up for grabs.

A shrill ringing pierced through the gentle hush of the atmosphere. Lean legs clad in fitting black picked up a quicker pace, the Converse shoes snapping against the polished tiles rhythmically.  Gleaming syrupy orange from the sunlight, his eyes roamed over the small piece of paper grasped in his slender fingers with the schedule of his day printed crisply. He was too weak to supress the gush of air escaping at the result as he flipped the hair out his vison. He caught a hint of blue as he scooped it to the side ― which reminded him that he probably should re-dye it and get a trim seeing as the sapphire and cobalt streaks were fading from their once vivaciousness. Luckily, his naturally platinum blond hair had kept the colour adequately vibrant, and the added grey complimented the ocean blue while contrasting the white. His twirling contemplations passed the time and his destination was soon reached after climbing a few flights of stairs with his footsteps as his only company.

There was a seat up the back that called in promising. A few empty chairs surrounded it for his friends to sit on if they wanted and the curtain was open so he could bask in the sun before it heated to an unbearable scorch. The wait didn’t last long before a boy with black hair pulled the chair beside the bluenette out with a screech upon the tiles.

“Hey Naoki,” the raven, in the voice of a dissonant electric guitar, clipped in greeting.

Aforementioned teen mumbled slurs along the lines of an acknowledgement and slumped back in his chair. Students flocked the classroom now and destroyed the previous quiescence, the sound of quiet laughter soon dying down when people noticed the man ― who had appeared from early dawn shadows it seemed ―standing at the front of the room. His face vaunted a small smile when he instructed the class. “Okay duckies, get your shit out and blah, you know what to do.”

Why the school board put this guy in charge of thirty odd students, Naoki could only take a wild guess at. The Asian man was more nonchalant about work than the students here, just as he demonstrated by flopping into his chair and swinging his feet onto his desk.  His style of teaching wasn’t all so bad though; textbook work was his thing, which was fine for the bluenette. “Xylic,” a curly-haired teen whispered harshly. The raven sitting next to Naoki answered and the white-haired boy ― Beiyal ― passed over a book. Dirtied leather shoes paused right next to Naoki’s desk, and he peered up through his fringe to see Mr. Karasu leaning against it. “How are you guys going?” he murmured through the crunch on an apple.

“What are we even supposed to be doing?” the sceptic tone belonged to Xylic, his pink-rimmed eyes lowered tiredly as he scratched at some of the eyeliner he wore, or as he would correct: guy-liner.