✩⋆ ꜱᴋᴀᴛᴇʀ ʙᴏʏ ⋆✩

☆ ⋆ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ⋆ ☆

⋆ ☆ ⋆

⋆ ☆ ⋆

Get up.

Move.

Get out of bed.



So lazy.



Just hurry up and get out of bed.



It isn't that hard.



Get out of bed, [name].



Get up.



I groan quietly, and finally sit up, my sheets and pillows a crumpled and creased mess around my tired form. 


"I'm up."


I speak to no one, just a silent confirmation to myself. Silently grumbling and muttering under my breath, cursing about nothing in particular, I rub the sleep out of my eyes. My hands also rub my face, the pressure against my skin a comforting feeling. However, despite the nice feeling, my hands feel filthy, like they're coated in some sort of grime even though I know they aren't.

I don't move for a few minutes, quietly staring at my sheets that are uncomfortably wrapped around my knees and hips through my fingers. I let out another groan before looking up at my walls, silently surveying them like I hadn't been living in the room for years already.

My eyes traced the familiar posters and drawings on the walls, photographs, and then some old skateboards a friend had helped me hang on the wall. My eyes moved along to the books on my bookshelf, dropping down to my desk, a cluttered mess of papers and miscellaneous objects.

And this week's homework.

I groaned and shut my eyes again, tilting my head back to the ceiling, contemplating if I could actually be bothered to do the homework. It was due in a few days, but I'd probably forget about it if I didn't do it right now while it's fresh on my mind.

Do the homework, 

Or get yelled at by a teacher.

Work,

or a lecture.

Shoving the bedsheets off my legs, the folded creases clinging to my pajama pants like hands grabbing me, desperately trying to drag me back into my unconscious as I finally get out of bed. Rolling off the side and stumbling to my feet, finally, I'm actually definitively out of bed. 

"Guess I'm getting scolded by that old bastard," I mutter under my breath, voice still rough and deep from having barely spoken.

I languidly wander out of my bedroom, stepping over clutter and discarded items with familiarity. I reach up, scratching my stomach and inadvertently pushing up my shirt as I do so. Yawning into my hand, I walk into the bathroom, not even bothering to look in the mirror as I walk past it and over to the shower.

Not like I need another reminder of how hot I am.

I run a hand through my hair, leaning over to flick the water on. Within seconds, the water hisses and steam starts to fill the room so I wander back over to the door and shut it, not letting the heat escape.