Edgar longs for the sassy purple undead to match his level of angst, but his inky heart goes unnoticed. This seems to be the perfect place for a high spirited maniac to insert herself into. Colette, now invested in the situation, want's to do whatev...
Edgar awoke in his plain white bed at the crack of dawn. It was a new day and he had to make it to work at 9:00 sharp. However, it was still early morning and the sun barely crept up his shut shades.
"Huunnngghhhh..." he groaned in bed.
Despite waking up this early, he didn't leave his sheets for another hour. He laid in bed, staring at his dreary grey ceiling, simply listening to his own thoughts. Turning to his side, he hugged his pillow with half his face buried into it. He sniffed his pillow, looking for some fuel with the smell of the laundry detergent. He stared blankly at his desk. Nothing special, just a mess of graphing paper and sewing materials. Sitting on his chair was his scarf, laying lifeless, much like its gloomy wearer. A photo was placed on his desk. It was of Emz.
Edgar groaned again, turning to his other side to face his wall. This side of the room wasn't so dreary, as a litter of posters hugged it. The vibrant colors of rock band logos contrasted against the dark atmosphere, splashes of red, yellow, pinks, and blues that watched over him as he lay silently. Sweeping his hair up, he found himself face-to-face with the poster of his favorite band. The Bad Randoms stared back at him.
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"Get up, kid!" he imagined Buzz saying. "Time for another disastrous day!"
"L-l-let's see how long he takes to g-get up today!" taunted Stu.
"Come on, Edgar!" Poco called. "Put on a smiiiiile~"
"Hahahahaha..." The obnoxious voice laughed from his desk.
Edgar stared at the poster for another hour. He felt a sick sensation in his stomach as the three figures looked at him. Something about the way Poco smiled crushed his soul. His back turned to the desk, he could feel a cold sensation behind his neck. The light finally crept up behind him from the gaps in his blinds. His phone went off once more. The screen light blinded him.
"It's 7 am..." he whispered. He looked back at the photo of Emz. "Back on the grind..."
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The walk to Starr Park is always a pain for Edgar. He didn't own any bike or skateboard, nor did he have his license yet. So everyday, he'd force himself to walk to work, fresh from his morning blues. It was still February so the air was cold enough for him to sniffle. Edgar covered his nose with his scarf and pulled his sweater sleeves down for the walk. On the way he put on his earphones to once more listen to his morning playlist. That's when he felt a threatening sensation in the air.
