❝ you want me to hang out with a band kid? ❞
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in which semi eita,
the boy you've always
been jealous of,
comes to live
with you in london .
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es...
YOU'D BEEN SITTING IN BED FOR hours now, your mailed acceptance letters laid out before you side by side. from left to right: acceptance to university of birmingham, acceptance to university of east london, half scholarship to cambridge university, and a full ride to imperial college london.
they were all good schools. great schools, even. so good to the point where you thought these acceptance letters might've been a mistake. what a coincidence it would be that all these top tier schools sent letters to the wrong person... until you realized the thought of that happening made you feel physically sick.
you acknowledged that your acceptance into these schools must've meant you'd been doing something right, but you still couldn't help doubting yourself—even after having had these letters for months now. honestly, you only applied to the unis on a whim because the teachers at your old high school wouldn't stop bugging you about college. since your 10th year.
they'd throw recommendations at you left and right, not even bothering to ask the "smart girl" if she even wanted to go to college. it was those same teachers that assigned so much work that you got even more burnt out than you already were.
that's probably why you struggled to make a decision. because how many of these colleges can actually help you revitalize your love for learning? would you just be wasting your time on some hopeless dream?
sighing, you leaned back against the headboard and ran a hand down your face as you contemplated.
there was still a lot to take into account: the cost of going to the schools that didn't offer a scholarship + how far each school was. if the school is far, would you dorm there or suck it up and make the long commute? you also wanted to start working to help your mom—especially since it was now 3 people in the house—so how would that work?
somewhere in the background, semi shuffled. you could hear his soft groans of comfort as he burrowed himself deeper into his covers.
turning your head to the side, you could see his silver hair peeking out as his head slid off his pillow. the clock on his bedside table read 9:23 am, and it was only after registering the numbers that you realized that semi was totally and utterly late.
a smirk graced your lips, the thought of letting him sleep in and miss his second day of school made you snicker. instead, you sighed and grabbed one of your decorative pillows—which you always throw on the floor to make more space when it's time for bed.
