The lights began to turn off, one by one the hallways became dimly lit. cans of trash emptied and the floors of the rooms, swept clean. a mop laying vertically across his shoulders, arms hanging off from the sides as a lollipop he had stolen from the canteen earlier edging on the side of his corners. he stands in the middle of the hallway, staring at the perfectly mopped and clean flooring, an accomplished smile peering on his features before disappearing as fast as it had appeared. his left hand seizing up, before vigorously shaking it, the mop falling back by his side as his other hand moves to hit against the door on his left. ❝ agh... fuck. ❞ he grumbles under his breath.
he hasn’t been here for long, but he has been here long enough to know that he hated being here. the academy was filled with snobby rich kids that had gold laced around their very necks, spoons that catered to their every cry and fingers, fingers... fingers so bratty that clung to everything they touched, never ceasing to give up nor admit to failure. a scoff leaving him, perhaps he was just envious... rather jealous as the viridescent monstrosity of covetous limbs that refuse to forgive, they refuse! and here he stood, frozen in a time that he could not move forward in. and he gives up. both hands raised, and they raise to hit against the same door.
his reverie is broken as the realisation that the pain in his hand would not heal at the angry smashing of his fists, and he stops. his hand moving to grasp onto the door as the realisation that the lights were still lit inside, opening it and before he could react the door hits something, or was it someone?
❝ the hell... ❞ he pulls the door back one more time, slamming it back as if hoping whatever it was would suddenly dissipate due to his brute strength. ( @wyyanbo )
