Packing and Leaving

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Elijah's POV

I wake up to the feel of cold drool on the side of my mouth and I lazily wipe it off, my sight blurry with my glasses.

With my eyes half opened and a yawn stretching my face wide, I reach my arm on to the bedside table, needing them to read the blurry lines on the clock not even two feet from me. I finally find them halfway hanging off of the table and once I do, I pull them towards my face, securing them behind my ears as I try to look at the clock again.

When my eyes finally decide to work with me, I see that the time is eight o'clock. I stamp the time in my mind, knowing that that's not when I'm supposed to be getting up. I turn my head and lay it back down on the pillow, drifting off the sleep bed for my eyes fly back open.

Holy hell.

I was supposed to be up at six!

With a sense of urgency, I scramble off of my bed and stumble over my bag that's laying on the floor beside it. I had went to bed last night, too lazy to pack anymore. I thought I would get up early this morning and continue before my flight at nine.

It obviously didn't work out that way.

Stumbling into my bathroom across the hall, I hurriedly grab my toothbrush and begin brushing my teeth, refusing to start my day without doing so no matter how late I make myself.

Leaving the water running, I head back into my room and begin grabbing random shirts and pants from my drawers and throwing them into my travel bag that's laying empty exactly for an extra blanket on the floor. When I started school a few years back, I chose to do so out is state, not wanting to stay in the town I had lived in for eighteen years.

Six years later and I have a full time job, a nice house and a pretty city to live in, even if it's not the biggest.

The only thing I'm lacking is a companion. Or friends. I can't even own a pet because of my allergies. And so, every six months, I catch a flight to go visit my friends in the south where the sun shines and the boys are half naked, even if they aren't really my type.

For some reason, every time I attempt to date someone or get involved, I find myself pushing them away. I have this feeling that somewhere out there is a person made for me, even if I'm the furtherest thing from supernatural you can get. I'm waiting to feel that spark. That instant connection. That love at first sight deal.

My friends complain that I have my head lots in all the pages that I've read over the years.

And they're more than likely right.

I laugh to myself as I rush back to the bathroom and spit of the thick paste, rising out my mouth with water to take the mint taste away. After I do, I look up in the mirror and straighten my glasses.

I have chocolate hair with blonde highlights, my curls long, reaching my forehead and even my eyes. Well only when it's wet. I have a slim nose and I'm told a good smile, but all I see is a dumb clumsy human that has to pay to see properly. That's not something you go around bragging about.

Sighing to myself, knowing I shouldn't be wasting all this time pouting, I begin to gather my favorite things that I know I will need and tote them back and forth from the bathroom to my room, slowly filling up the bag that was empty only ten minutes prior. Knowing I don't have that much time left, I go into my underwear draw, throwing some boxer in the mix as well as some socks.

The fuzzy ones of course.

Even though I'm traveling to the warm south, my fuzzy socks are a must.

I'm too anemic, another stupid human trait of mine, to leave them behind risking cold toes and a shivering body.

After I know I have enough socks to last me a month if needed, I hurry to through my swimming trunks in there, glass I wasn't too lazy to find that among the random clothes I have everywhere. Though at the same time it was the search that tired me out in the first place.

Once I'm sure I have all the clothes I need, I zip up that back and put it by the door, doing my best to not forget it here like I did last time. I would leave the freckles on my face if they weren't attached to my body.

I grab my book bag from the closet and find myself getting excited about my favorite part. The best thing about these month long vacations is the fact that I can catch up on all my reading. I have a bit of a problem when it comes to getting new books, always wanting more even if I haven't finished or even started the ones from before. But with my speed reading, I always finish all of my books by the end of week one. And I end up getting more anyway.

If it was up to me, I would live in a library that had a glass roof, letting me peer up at the stars as I turn the pages of another world.

But my seven to five, six days a week job isn't exactly allowing me to do that, even if the pay is good.

Shaking my head away from the dreams that will never happen, I pull my book bag on to my shoulders and lift up the bag on the floor by the door. I open it and leave my room, looking back to reassure myself that I grabbed everything, knowing I probably didn't. Too pressed for time, I hurry out of my house and to the car, even as huge snowflakes come down to cover and ground and a bit of my eyesight.

If I hurry, I'll be able to get to the big city that's thirty minutes away and on to my flight before everything gets shit down. I through everything into my car before following them inside.

Hopefully in six hours I'll be lounging away on the pool side with a book in hand and a man in mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~
So we don't have a little nena in this story. Instead he's going to be a curious sarcastic bottom that doesn't listen. Dude I can see this story forming now and I am in loooove.

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