Chapter Text
My alarm. 7am. I struggle to sit up as I hit stop. I pull my phone off of my charger and roll over in my bed to face the row of teddies that are practically falling on top of each other. They mean a lot to me - they’ve watched me grow up - So I give them some appreciation every morning. I drag myself to sit up again and immediately tap tiktok to scroll while I eat the cereal my mum brought up for me. 7:05, I’ve finished eating but I really can’t be bothered to get up so I’ll wait like another ten minutes. 7:15, I force myself out of bed and wash my face. I have barely any skincare to do, purely because I’m too lazy for that shit, but I use moisturiser. On the back of my door hangs my dreaded uniform. I groan as I force myself to get changed whilst I’m literally half asleep. I wheel my chair from my desk to my vanity, sit down and scoop my hair up into a ponytail. I start my makeup; concealer, blush, mascara, and I slip my vaseline into my pocket before I brush my teeth. I grab my music book, HSM Script, and throw them into my bag along with my english homework. Somehow it’s already 8:00 - and my mum is yelling at me from downstairs telling me we need to leave. I run down, apply my vaseline in the mirror, and leave the house. The car journey to school is always chaotic, even though the drive is literally only ten minutes. It’ll either be my little sister Lia blasting her awful music taste (Taylor Swift) on the car speakers, or my mum nagging me about forgetting to turn my bedroom light off. By the time we reach school I’ve already had enough. I jump out the car and make my way to the music department to drop off my music ready for my voice lesson. The second I walk in my ears flood with the sound of flute choir from M2 - that’s how you know it’s a Monday morning. I see a group of boys in M1. I know exactly who those boys are..although I only care about one. It’s a band practice. They call themselves The Black Ribbons. They’re laughing and shoving each other with the door wide open - stupid idea considering there’s teachers everywhere. I discreetly spy on them, as I usually do, and there he was. Sat on the drumkit was the most beautiful boy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Kit Meadows. Everything about him is ethereal. The moment I first noticed him I was smitten. It was the way the sunlight caught in his hair - that soft, sandy blonde that’s like a waterfall of gold. It’s messy in the most perfect way, like he runs a hand through it when he’s thinking too hard or laughing too much. And his eyes… God, his eyes. They’re this impossible shade of green, like polished peridot, warm and sharp all at once, like they could see right through me and still choose to stay. He has this quiet confidence, the kind that doesn’t shout to be seen. He leans back in his chair like the world will wait for him - and it always does. There’s this tiny scar on his chin from when he fell face first into a ditch in Year 5. I remember it vividly - he just got up and carried on running, wiping away the blood that was trickling down his chin. It was really attractive - and sometimes, when he’s deep in thought, he bites the inside of his cheek - I don’t think he even knows he does it. I then snap out of dreamland when I realise he’s staring right at me. Which also means he knows I’m currently spying on him and his band. He smirks and tilts his head to the side. “You alright there?” He says teasingly. I feel my face flush with embarrassment. I don’t reply, and instantly leave to walk down the corridor. …Shit that’s going on the regret list. I replay his actions in my mind and smile to myself. He doesn’t know what he does to me. Or maybe he does. And that’s what makes it worse.
Or better.
I haven’t decided.