❝ It was his chaos that made him beautiful. ❞ - atticus
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M O N D A Y
It's 7:43am and Thomas Edison is late for school.
It's not his fault. Not really. It's a Monday morning and the air is crisp and it nips at ripe red ears. Purple fingers swell with the chill and porcelain pale flesh is stung by the cold.
What can he say? Winter mornings freeze his body, and of course he wants to wrap himself in his duvet, ignoring the irritating buzz of his alarm that drills into his brain every morning. It's a miracle his eyeballs haven't fallen out at the piercing sound of it.
Waking up late isn't exactly a prominent excuse, but it's not like Thomas can come up with anything better. According to the authority figures of his shitty school, they think his car broke down last week, he ran over a hedgehog on the way to school, he left his schoolbag at home and had to go back to get it, and his phone fell into a drain on the way.
His bullshit excuses won't last long, and to be honest, he's sick of having to pull something out of his ass every single morning. It's not his fault he can't get himself out of bed. Who can? It's December, for fucks sake.
He's not your classic, straight A student, to be fair. He doesn't try and he isn't naturally bright. He shows up late every day and doesn't participate in class. He starts fights and swears at teachers and he's pretty sure it's not long before he gets kicked out of school for good.
Not that he cares. He hates the fucking place.
The bell has long gone as Thomas kicks a stone down the path towards the entrance of his school, hands stuffed firmly in his pocket. Eyes casted downwards, his teeth chatter uncontrollably. He forgot his scarf, this morning. His brain is still back home, somewhere. Maybe with the scarf.
Busting open the doors and strolling casually down the empty hallways, Thomas hums to himself. He doesn't know what his first class even is. English? Maybe. Or math. He doesn't care. Maybe he'll skip today.
Thomas is considered the basket case of his school. His teachers hate him, his peers hate him. The caretakers hate him. He's messy, he's rude. He causes disruptions and he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He doesn't talk to anyone, and he doesn't exactly know how. He's smoked on the property before and he's been in so many fights it's hard to count.
'Basket case' seems a little far, in Thomas' opinion, but he's already been labelled a social freak and if everyone wants to call him that, then fine. So be it.
