falling /// sanders sides soulmate au

Chapter 2 - - Virgil

My room is really small. And cold. This is important so you can understand why getting up is so hard for me.

First of all, I can't just roll out of bed. I hardly have any floor space so it would be uncomfortable and I'd probably get stuck between my bed and wardrobe. This means I have to make an effort to leave my bed.

Secondly, it is so cold. Leaving the warmth of my duvet seems like a ridiculous idea when I could just stay in bed and never move again.

Nevertheless, one of my dads promptly drags me out of bed every morning in a effort to get me motivated for school. How they can think that works is baffling to me but I entertain them.

My first move in the morning is covering up my soulmate mark. My purple bangs seem to do that enough - they fall nearly over my eyes - but precautions must always be made. I usually use foundation or concealer which I borrow from snake dad.

I should probably mention I give my dads nicknames. One I call snake dad because he's a lawyer and can pick apart cases more effectively than most, and he'd even been accused of lying in a court before to back up his claims. His coworkers had given him the nickname 'snake' for his abilities, which I picked up on pretty quickly.

My other dad was nicknamed moustache dad because he has a moustache. I know, very creative.

The second order of business in the morning is getting dressed. It allows me to stay in my room for about 10 minutes longer. My outfit usually consists of my favourite black and purple patched hoodie but that was in the wash, so I went with a plain old black hoodie, jeans and some old converse.

Then I have to go downstairs to grab a slice of bread. I don't toast it. The sudden noise a toaster makes when it's done? Oh hell no. That shit startles me and I don't want to have to deal with that in the morning, so unburnt bread it is for me.

The trip to school is a short one as we only live half a mile away so I'm able to walk it. I slip on my headphones, pull up my hoodie and walk to the beat of whatever is playing. Today I was listening to Panic! At the Disco so my walking pace could beat a car (don't quote me on that).

As I approached the school, I regarded it with apathy. What a hell site. I'd hardly learnt anything in all the years I've been pushed through the education system, mostly because the lessons weren't catered towards people who easily zoned out. Maybe that was on me, but for now I'll blame the school.

The 'grand' fountain stood in the middle of the courtyard outside the school. What was the point in it? The only thing it was good for was when the stoners grope around in it for spare change when they spent all their money getting their high.

A short person stood next to the fountain, looking into it with an awed expression, then leaning back and clapping their hands. Weirdo. Maybe they were a stoner too. They didn't dress like one, but I guess you don't have to dress like a stoner to be one. They wore a light blue polo shirt with a grey cardigan wrapped around their shoulders and khaki pants. A blue backpack (which was revealed to be covered in pins when they turned their back) was slung over their shoulders over the cardigan. What was the deal with the cardigan anyway, it seemed a bit pointless.

I stopped judging a random person and continued to walk into the building. I started to make my way to D-8 then saw Roman Sanders stood next to the door and immediately turned on my heel. I don't want an encounter with Mr Popular today, no siree. Continuing to walk blindly down the hall to the beat of hallelujah, I didn't notice the weird stoner(?) kid at first. Then they tapped my arm.

You all know how this interaction goes, and it seemed by it I made a new friend. I'm not too sure how that worked, but Patton had seemed so eager that I couldn't refuse their request. Maybe that was a dangerous thing. The damage that man could do with puppy eyes.

The first bell rang so approaching D-8 was inevitable. My hands were shoved so deeply in my pockets that the lizards that live under the earth's crusts could see them.
Just kidding, I'm not a conspiracy theorist. Could you imagine lizards under the crust though? I wonder what-
My feet took me to outside D-8 while I was deep in thought about lizards. I leant against the wall and took out my earphones - they weren't allowed in lesson.

It was then that I noticed a certain Roman Sanders chatting with his clique. It was so painfully obvious that they only hung out with him because his parents were rich that it made me cringe. Roman didn't seem to mind. He looked oblivious to the fake smiles and shallow compliments he received every day.

A guy showered with compliments and popularity each day obviously harboured a large ego so I kept my distance and looked interested in my black painted nails. They were bitten down to the bed, a nervous habit of mine. Snake dad thought it would be a good idea to paint them to make me less tempted to bite them. Well guess what dad, that didn't work at all.

Mx Goodman hadn't shown up yet, which was unlike them. They were always very punctual and precise, punishing those who walked in late. Well, how the turn tables.

Before I could register any movement, Roman was by my side. Why he was there or how he got there was a mystery, but I greeted him with a cheery, "Go away." while still looking at my nails.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine," he smirked.

My thoroughly inspected right hand dropped to my side as I felt a tingling on my forehead.