Fly High | ✅

1 | Hey, old man

◈A D R I A N◈

"Mr. Davies."

"Mr. Davies!"

I jerked my head to the front. Mrs. White was standing in front of me, her brows pulled together in a frown.

"Boring you, am I?" she tutted. Her hair was pulled into a bun so tight that she didn't even need Botox.

"Almost," I replied nonchalantly.

She inhaled deeply, cheeks flushed with anger. Someone coughed softly, trying to mask a chuckle.

"Detention. NOW," she spat before returning to the front and wrote notes on the board.

Suppressing a curse, I pushed my chair back and walked out, not forgetting to slam the door shut with a loud bang. Detention can wait. I took the stairs to the topmost floor before taking a right turn to look for the music room.

I peeped through the glass window on the door to make sure no one was in it. A bell rang in the distance, signaling the period has ended. I quickly entered the room and rushed to the windows. Unlatching the window, I gave a slight push and started easing my right leg out. My left one followed suit and soon I find myself clutching onto the beams. I slid my feet carefully to the side to grab onto the railing of the rooftop.

The wind started to pick up and it sent chills down my spine. I hate the cold. It constricts my lungs and suffocates me. I quickened my steps on the little protrusions of slab that ran along the building's facade to escape the harsh breeze. Finally, I reached the railing and immediately hauled myself over it, landing with a dull thud.

Don't get me wrong. I have no interest in hanging off the building like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible just to get here. I would have gladly taken the emergency stairs up here if not for the surveillance camera guarding the door.

I slid my hand into the pocket and fumbled for a cigarette. Looking down at the cig, my mind wanders off to last Friday.

✴

"What?"

"You heard me," he replied, his eyes still staring holes in me.

"You're crazy," I spluttered.

He shrugged at my reply.

"Well, would it help if I beg you not to jump? If you feel better dying, by all means, go ahead. I have no right to stop you."

I must have looked like a fish out of water, with my mouth closing and opening. That was unexpected. Being a natural rebel, I hopped off the wall and landed on the floor just to spite him.

"Changed your mind?" he asked before taking a puff.

I just stared at him silently. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Days-old stubble littered his chin. Forest green eyes that looked almost golden whenever the lightning flashed. His white tee was mottled with oil stains. A few holes were dotting on his jeans telling me it was not for fashion purpose.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked again.

Again, I ignored him. I hold out my hand, palm open, facing up. His gaze dropped to my hand, confusion playing out on his features.

"Hey, old man. Give me one," I pointed at the cigarette dangling from his lips.

He broke into a grin before reaching into his pocket. Pulling out a whole pack, he slapped it onto my palm before taking his leave, slightly brushing past my shoulders. I looked down at the empty packet on my right palm.

"All yours, kid."

✈

Author's note

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{Song: White Ribbons by Terrible Sons}