[right][sub][color=BB8855]At the end, short tid bits with [@smarty0114] & [@GhostMami][/color][/sub][/right] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/1mHKCYr.png?1[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/yA9rQIc.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/lIKMWvW.png?1[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/CmbbS4c.png?1[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/200626/3cfef6066819f84c6a1c110ae732b0c4.png[/img][/center] [indent][color=BB8855]Resting his hand on the back of his neck, Griffin Pierce, with eyes closed, tried to recall the sensation he felt moments before he passed out in the main office. He remembered seeing a vacant room, obscured by darkness. There was no one around and yet he was there... for a reason. Was it truly because he was on the verge of passing out? His diagnosis was a severe case of the common flu and dehydration. [i]Dehydration[/i]. He was an athlete and if he was indeed dehydrated, that would be considered a rookie's mistake. Griffin was [b]not[/b] a rookie. Never in his life did he think he'd get this sick, where the school physician decreed he had to be cooped up in this prison cell for two whole weeks. For the first week, he was in a vegetative state. They had him on some strong meds, deeming it as their way of providing him a swift recovery. He couldn't even recall if he had visitors that week because he was practically comatose, aware but not really. Part of him saw the nurses and the doc talking, and the other part of him was subconsciously stuck in a loop of his last healthy day at San Agustin. He did have a theory that his mood stabilizers conflicted with the gross liquid relief meds. While he wanted to believe they would take him off of them for these two weeks, because most medical practitioners would, it seemed they were willing to risk it, so he wouldn't add another incident to his report. From what he's told, he had a manic episode the first week of attending San Agustin, which resulted in him harming himself and a classmate, solely because someone stole his pills. The odd thing about that? Griffin had no recollection of it whatsoever and it seemed to have been long forgotten because none of his peers have brought it up in conversation. Puzzled at his own actions, trying to search through the fog, Griffin opened his eyes to see the campus grounds, through a tall window, peering in between bleak curtains. Why would he intentionally go to the teachers' wing during dinner hours? Nothing was adding up. No matter how much time he spent this second week in the Health Center thinking about it, which he felt like he should've been released the moment they lightened up on the drugs, he could not, for the life of him, connect the dots. Closing the curtains, he turned to survey the room that was devoid of beauty. The only pinch of color was what his friends left on his temporary nightstand, like the [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/1e/33/76/1e337601e2373b42133da25270cd8709.jpg]blanket flowers[/url] put in a jar by Sol, crayons gifted by Wes, and a small picture of cartoon [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c1/a0/1e/c1a01ee4ae69ca1fa6f7a2035f9b331b.jpg]s'mores[/url] painted by Bradley (S'mores was Griffin's guilty pleasure). All with the same goal which was to add some life to this sparse, functional, and overall dreary room. Life meaning color. Smiling to himself, he went to the bed, in which he made sure was wrinkle free, nice, and tight, and grabbed his jacket that Sol specifically picked out for him. Well, she chose his [url=http://regardmag.com/wp-content/uploads/Froy-3-731x1024.jpg]outfit[/url], since she was the only person he would trust in his room, without his supervision. After putting his coat on, he brushed his fingers through his hair to make sure it went in the direction he preferred, his left side. As he did so, he absentmindedly imagined himself from his time here; exercising in all areas of the room, playing solitary on the bed, reading [i]Crime and Punishment[/i] by Fyodor Dostoevsky on the window sill, listening to Tchaikovsky as he sped through his calculus homework from last week, this week, and the next, and just his overall boredom and rampant thoughts of not only the outside world, but how he ended up in this position. Being caged was an understatement. The little freedom he was given was in the form of nice long walks in the hallways that had as much personality as a highway, with different amounts of traffic depending on the time of day. When he did go for his walks, he counted security cameras, which was surprisingly more than he'd imagine a school health center having. He eventually convinced himself, or tried to at least, that it was because they had a room full of drugs that his peers would try to get their hands on. Seemed logical enough. It wasn't a pressing matter for him to overthink, not yet at least. He'd file his knowledge of the layout of this place for later use, if it was ever needed. As far as he could tell, the staff at this place were exceedingly paranoid and took cautious steps to provide their students the ideal experience, which felt more controlled than not. Being stuck in here was driving him mad, angry even, because he was allowing himself to fill his head with all kinds of rubbish because he was BORED. If he continued to do so, he would have a harder time to think about the things that mattered. His mind was a hard drive and it only made sense to put [i]useful[/i] information in it, but here he was counting cameras and ceiling tiles for crying out loud. Grumbling inaudible profanities and frustrations, he grabbed the crayon box and small painting, pocketing it in the inside of his jacket. Once he made sure he had all his things in his jacket, in his gray JanSport backpack (with his schoolwork) that was now on his back, and in his navy blue string bag (with his dirty clothes and his hygiene products) that was now hanging off his right shoulder, Griffin grabbed the jar housing the vibrant flowers, native to hot and dry climates. Finally, he could get the hell out of this place and [i]breathe[/i]. Leaving the room behind, to hopefully never return to, Griff glided down the hall one last time. His boots silently, yet prominently, stepped on the linoleum floor - influenced by one single objective: going outside. When he neared the elevator, he looked at the camera at the top left corner, through his peripheral vision. Curious, really. This was nothing new to him. The fact that they were being watched. If the school was as suspicious as he believed them to be, they most definitely had cameras discreetly hidden in walls. Though... this could be his quarantine mind getting far too imaginative. Still, he would keep his guard up until proven otherwise. His gut feeling never betrayed him and he knew since day 1 something was off. What exactly? He didn't know just yet and that was frustrating. In the elevator, he gingerly circled his neck around, feeling it crack with every turn. This felt nice. Being able to freely roam and fly. He was almost there. Just before the elevator door opened, he made sure to secure the jar in his left hand, just in case. Soon enough, the lobby was revealed and he was greeted by two faces that never failed to make him feel nostalgic, simply by them existing. Wesley Slater and Bradley Barron. He didn't understand how they got so close, in such a short amount of time. Wesley did hang out with the jocks, so that was a good start. However, in comparison to them all, he was small and perhaps that’s why Griffin felt more inclined to befriend him. Wes didn’t have his head up his ass like Leo did and was actively trying to get faster, stronger, and better. B-rad, on the other hand, was simply coincidental and at first, a means for Griffin to use, like for his talent in photography. A skill he will admit he would never go out of his way to learn. His aloof personality was a nice way to calm all the anxiety Griffin held up on the inside, which he hid behind all that coolness he displayed. Plus, Bradley wasn’t hard to get along with. They just... worked. Here he was with great friends that provided him a sense of normality in a school that felt everything BUT normal. His blue gaze lit up and the corners of his lips rose in such a charming yet understated way. Effortlessly casual. Cool and collected. Simply smooth and one-of-a-kind. Griffin's smile. [color=8A4C40][b]"Sayōnara, hell!"[/b][/color] he breezily exclaimed. Exiting the elevator, he strode to his friends, waiting in the lounge area, and briskly added, [color=8A4C40][b]"Sup guys,"[/b][/color] before eagerly inquiring, [color=8A4C40][b]"What'd I miss?"[/b][/color] [color=98817b][b]"Shit, dude, a lot. But also kind of nothing at the same time."[/b][/color] Wesley greeted his friend with a grin and went in for a hug, no permission asked. It'd been too long and Wesley liked to show affection to those he feels close to. [color=98817b][b]“How you feeling, man?"[/b][/color] Affection, while welcomed, was something Griffin had a hard time getting used to. Whenever his friends, especially Wes, went in for a hug, he found himself awkwardly tensing up, but following his lead and returning the embrace. It was as if this was such a foreign concept to him, to be given hugs so freely, without any thought. Wes just did it and that was endearing. Although he felt uncomfortable, he did enjoy the warmth and kindness, and simply smiled while patting his friend's back, [color=8A4C40][b]"I'm feeling a little stir crazy. Need to get out tonight, I think."[/b][/color] Turning his attention to Bradley, a smirk gracing his face, Griffin gestured for him with his patting hand to come join them, making sure his other hand holding the flowers didn't tilt over, [color=8A4C40][b]"You should get in this. Y'know, for old time's sake."[/b][/color] Bradley's grin faltered ever so slightly. Physical contact was hardly his forte, physical contact with the boy he very much liked was a special kind of torture. Subtly as possible, he fixed his expression, opting for an amused smirk. [color=66cc66][b]"We've known each other for two months, what the hell is old time's sake?"[/b][/color] Nevertheless, he walked over, arms wrapping around his two friends, as they formed the sort of blob typical of a group hug. [color=98817b][b]"Oh, don't be such a grump. Our friend missed us, B-rad!"[/b][/color] Wesley released his bros from the group hug and smiled wide. [color=98817b][b]"Anyway, back to the topic at hand, which is what you missed while you were... [i]incapacitated[/i]?"[/b][/color] Wes looked to Griffin with an inquisitive look. This school was so fucking weird. [color=98817b][b]"What you missed was a horribly boring assembly that I fell asleep during, but wonderful Brad here filled me in, angel that he is. There's gonna be a scavenger hunt on Wednesday, with assigned teams, unfortunately. But MORE importantly, there is another... [i]event[/i] upcoming. We'll talk about that later."[/b][/color] He quickly glanced towards the security camera and hoped that his ridiculously perceptive friend got the message. Yes, Griffin got the message. It didn't take his impeccable perception skills to understand his friend. The expressive tone and animate eye gestures were blatantly obvious and not subtle at all. All you needed was common sense (at least in his opinion) and you could understand Wesley Slater. He nodded to the assembly comment, naturally assuming he wasn't participating since it would be relatively last minute to slip him in the roster. That was fine by him - he could use this time to watch his peers, size them up, and judge them accordingly. Focusing on the 'more' important event, Griffin chuckled, [color=8A4C40][b]"Okay, sounds good. Now."[/b][/color] He adjusted the string bag on his shoulder and looked at the receptionist lady, who seemed to be gushing at the display of intimacy, [color=8A4C40][b]"As much as I love this [i]bromance [/i]thing we got going on in here."[/b][/color] He purposely met eyes with Brad, before matter-of-factly suggesting, [color=8A4C40][b]"Let's bounce. I'm over this place. I want to cause some mayhem. Whaddya say?"[/b][/color] Bradley, subtlety be damned, couldn't help but blush. He stepped away from the other two boys, falling into line on one side of Griff. [color=66cc66][b]"Mayhem it is,"[/b][/color] he said, plastering on a grin and gesturing for the door. Outside, one thing certainly awaited them. [/color][/indent]