[URL=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZ_S9FBVaXg][color=lightblue][INDENT][B]
[SUP][SUB][H3]F E L I X   B R O O K S[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][sup][color=silver]— First Day[/color][/sup][/INDENT][/URL]
[INDENT][INDENT]Blue eyes blinked open, and a sigh followed. Felix laid in the dark, hesitating to turn his head to his alarm clock to see how much earlier he had woken up than was necessary. Agitation bubbled up inside him, working effectively to break the morning grogginess, conjured by his reluctance to face the coming day. He had hoped that he would dream of anything, a nightmare even, to prolong his relished solitary. Instead, his sleep passed in the blink of an eye, and he couldn’t even run to his dreams to get away from his, decidedly intolerable, reality. Felix tossed and turned for another ten minutes before giving up on trying to fall back asleep and proceeded with his routine, remembering the motions clearly: shower, dress, style hair, salvage breakfast, grab bag,  leave.

And by the time his stomach began to rumble, he was already showered and dressed in medium-wash denim jeans, a black hoodie, and a pair of his favorite black sneakers. His hair was styled with a soft gel that spiked gently away from his face, his skin surprisingly clear. Felix didn’t spend much time looking at himself in the mirror, but this morning felt different to him. Perhaps it was the change in season or the start of school that sparked a faint interest in a little self-reflection. His usual thoughts swarmed his mind in the few seconds he glanced over himself, the only good note was his gratitude for staying fit even after the sport seasons. And in that short moment, he felt the sting of his self-hatred, though it was masked by bad memories and flickers of the past in which he held onto tighter than the opposing good times of his life. Buried beneath it all, his numbness resurfaced, relieving him from his low moment, and he was out of his bedroom routinely.

Felix woke before daylight, but the lights were already flicked on in the kitchen—an unusual occurrence. He took a deep breath, hoping to not have any morning quarrels to improperly set the mood for his day. Felix walked into the kitchen, immediately starting to scavenge the fridge and cupboard for a quick breakfast.

“You’re up early,” a deep, older man’s voice sounded from across the kitchen island. Though spoken softly, it still managed to echo off the high ceilings and the pristine walls that made up the newly-built, cape-cod style house.

Felix decided against replying to his father that was probably up solely to speak to him before he left for school, still scavenging.

“I was waiting for you to get up. You know, it’s so hard to tell what time you’re going to get up and leave the house these days,” he let out a gentle chuckle, trying to lighten the conversation to elicit some sort of response from Felix.

Still nothing.

“I just wanted to send you off on your first day on a good note, and I,” he paused for a moment, “And I just thought that last year you were off to such a good start and. . .”

Not this again.

“And I guess I just hoped that this year—”

[color=lightblue]“Dad, stop,”[/color] Felix turned around to face him. The resemblance was uncanny. Felix shared a lot of the same features as his father, from his straight hairline and prominent jawline, to his tall height and crystalline eyes. Except Felix’s glare contrasted the disappointed stare of his father.

“And I just hoped that this year you would try a little harder,” his father finished sharply, honestly. 

Felix hesitated, setting his jaw in frustration, [color=lightblue]“I’ll try my best.”[/color]

With that, Felix was out the door.

Today, Felix refused to drive his truck to school, fearful that someone would key it or slash his tires from his plummeted reputation at school. Instead, he took a rather long walk to get into Crestwood Hollow’s downtown. Regardless of whether or not his belongings would be safe, he enjoyed the last few moments of his social isolation before the obligatory social game of high school. He remembered the walk vividly, each turn and bend in the trail that led from his house to the main street, and every memory that came with it. Felix dismissed every one of them, but it seemed as if they were chasing behind him like a cloud of bees, buzzing annoyingly but following too slow to sting him.

By the time he reached downtown, the streets were starting to become backed up by the students going to school and the morning commuters going to work. Every now and then, his heart would skip and his steps would falter, brought about by the coming and going of his anxiety. Felix didn’t bother discerning the true feelings he had, so he grouped them all together and slapped anxiety for it’s name.

What was even the point though? His stomach rumbled, realizing he never ended up eating anything at all. Instead of arriving early to school, he made a last minute decision, cutting a few corners to arrive at Joe’s Cafe. While the drive thru was backed up with orders, he was able to go in and get a coffee and a sausage biscuit without much wait. Felix decided to sit at a window table and savor every bite and sip of his breakfast, taking his time before deciding when to make his appearance at Mather Memorial.

He looked around at the cozy, relaxed ambiance, remembering back to his many hours he worked at this place over the summer. While the money was good and stocked away in his checking account, his primary reason was escape. And though he was limited to the hours he was able to work, the escape was enough to hold his sanity together until the next obstacle challenged him. In this case, it was today. Aside from working, he spent the rest of his time exercising or performing arbitrary hobbies that was a means to pass time. Felix was half-way decent at guitar, he had a sketchbook of random drawings and doodles, and a stack of novels littered his nightstand—some unfinished, some read through a couple of times—and he managed to successfully live out the summer as desensitized as possible. 

Time moved quicker than he preferred, eventually starting to become lost in the beginnings of different thought processes, each never seen to it’s full fruition to keep his mind bleak and painless. He habitually clung to the moment and to the taste of his breakfast. Each passing thought about that wretched high school was tossed aside—burned, ripped apart, mangled—to save him the stress and the inevitable anger that he was soon to confront. [/INDENT][/INDENT]