It was getting dark, not that Crowley had a good grasp on what time it was. Sunset. He really didn't feel like going home and in recent memory those days he didn't feel like going home had been spent with Bill instead, but Bill was gone.
Yesterday he had tried studying for an exam, resulting in his books getting tossed, ripped and partially burned by his idiot brothers, who called him a nerd. He hadn't gotten any sleep in, much less any studying, which meant that today during the exam he'd had no focus and possibly even less knowledge. He knew he'd failed that one and it felt so unfair. He knew life wasn't fair, but it was one of those days where it bothered him. He'd fallen asleep in the last two lessons and gotten lectured by the teachers. Told that he was throwing his life away and that he just didn't care enough and what was he supposed to say to that? He'd elected to say nothing and he'd sat through detention, eyes burning.
He didn't feel like hanging with the mates from school or with Bill's friends after, all in their game of proving to each other how little they cared. Easy not to care when most of them had parents to bail them out or, frankly, too little brain or sense to know why they ought to care.
And, no, he didn't want to go home either. Bound to be loud, more jeering, more pretending that shit didn't matter. Crowley had walked around for a while before realising he really had nowhere to go. So he sat down on the side of the road, head in his hands. He reached up to take off the sunglasses, because he didn't want to have to clean tear tracks off of them afterwards.
no subject
Yesterday he had tried studying for an exam, resulting in his books getting tossed, ripped and partially burned by his idiot brothers, who called him a nerd. He hadn't gotten any sleep in, much less any studying, which meant that today during the exam he'd had no focus and possibly even less knowledge. He knew he'd failed that one and it felt so unfair. He knew life wasn't fair, but it was one of those days where it bothered him. He'd fallen asleep in the last two lessons and gotten lectured by the teachers. Told that he was throwing his life away and that he just didn't care enough and what was he supposed to say to that? He'd elected to say nothing and he'd sat through detention, eyes burning.
He didn't feel like hanging with the mates from school or with Bill's friends after, all in their game of proving to each other how little they cared. Easy not to care when most of them had parents to bail them out or, frankly, too little brain or sense to know why they ought to care.
And, no, he didn't want to go home either. Bound to be loud, more jeering, more pretending that shit didn't matter. Crowley had walked around for a while before realising he really had nowhere to go. So he sat down on the side of the road, head in his hands. He reached up to take off the sunglasses, because he didn't want to have to clean tear tracks off of them afterwards.
Pretty pathetic, crying out here all alone.