I hated mornings. It made absolutely no sense to me that someone would want to wake up at the crack of dawn to go to school. And yet, here I was, on a Monday morning, coffee in hand, 'ready' for school. I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and checked my notifications only to come to the disappointing conclusion of just my home screen.  

I refresh.

Again.

Again. 

And again.

You know that moment when you really want a message to come so it'll give you an excuse to avoid confronting someone you don't particularly like? In this case, I was hoping there was some natural disaster, some emergency, to keep me from having to leave the comfort of my flat.

It also reminded me that it was the first day of a new school. The first day going to school on my own, now that I had rented a place in Trenton. No more days where Mom was reminding me that my alarm clock went off fifteen minutes ago. No more rainy days where Dad would let me skip school on the excuse of mental health. No more days where both of them would stress about whether I'd be okay.

And yet, after yearning for this space for so long, all I wanted was to be smothered by the endless questions and concerns. I wanted my Mom to march back in here and scream at me that the bus was coming in two minutes. Wanted dad to yell at me to set the table, wanted Nat to come barging into my room complaining that my music was too loud.

Instead, I was sitting on a bus bench in the rain, waiting for the sorry excuse of public transportation to get here on time.

"Didn't check the weather?" I heard a voice behind me ask teasingly.

I looked up, mustering the best peeved glare possible early on a Monday morning. Obviously, my performance hadn't quite met its mark, and the stranger decided for me that I was functioning enough for social confrontation. 

"Not a morning person?" He offered, sitting down next to me as though my silence was an open invitation. He must not have a lot of friends, I thought to myself, unashamedly assuming that this man lacked more social cues than a socially awkward hermit like myself possessed.  

I gave him a side glance, not looking him head on, knowing that he'd interpret it as intrigue instead of ridicule. He had dark, disheveled, mahogany hair piled up on his head in waves that made me wonder if he knew what a comb was. His eyes were a rare shade of grey brown, which I didn't know was possible till now. He definitely was a freak of nature, and my lips twisted together in a scowl as I realized my slight glance turned into me full on staring. Seems like the overly happy creep and I had switched roles in the matter of seconds, and I knew this was going to be the start of what would be an excruciatingly painful day. 

"Isn't waking up at the crack of dawn just your favorite thing? It's the highlight of my day!" I said, giving him a fake smile before deliberately pulling out my headphones and popping them into my ears. I rolled my eyes before welcoming the sound of my blaring music, successfully tuning out the world while destroying any hopes of having fully functioning hearing by the age of eighty. 

This was one of those times where I was desperately trying to convey to this person that I wasn't in the mood to discuss the weather or listen to how much he hated Kathy or whatever his bimbo of a girlfriend's name was. I was already in a foul mood, considering I hadn't had enough time to get some coffee before the brilliant idea of using public transit occurred to me I was somehow doing well. Usually, I wouldn't let the culprit in my vicinity for this long without giving them a gift of a bruised shin.  

However, being the little genius this stranger was, he tapped my shoulder. I deliberately let out an annoyed sigh, and snapped my face towards his, again bestowing him a glare that was probably my best work yet. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't good enough because the nimrod still seemed adamant on talking to me despite my many failed tries at dodging his attempts to socialize. Apparently my blatant annoyance did nothing to detour his goal of getting my attention as he gestured to me headphones. 

Again, I sighed exasperatedly, making a show of taking out my headphones "Yes?!"

He looked at me, slightly embarrassed, "You left your wallet back there--on the bench." 

I looked down and realized the fool was right. Great, just what I needed. Thank you, this was just the cherry on top of my morning sundae.

I still glared at him, and made a show of shoving the flimsy black leather wallet back in my pocket.  

"You happy?" I asked, adding jazz hands for some pizazz, figuring he was one of those 'do-gooders' who got off on community service and finding a charity case. 

"I'm--"

I cut him off, "I don't care who you are, and if you want to sell me something, I'm not interested. The bus is here, now have a crummy day."

I pocketed my phone and slung my hunter green backpack on my shoulder, before boarding the bus after flashing my pass to the driver. The old man let out a grunt in acknowledgement as he stared out the door, eyes tinted by his dark shades. He wore a blue cap that was slightly darker then his blue uniform, and he had an appearance similar to St. Nick (the in-shape version, that is). And of course, the man happened to follow me right onto the bus. Granted, I shouldn't have been as surprised and annoyed as I was at that considering he sat down next to me at the bus stop, but in the moment, he was like a pesky little mosquito I couldn't kill. 

If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was coming off a bit harsh. He was harmless and just trying to help and get that shiny golden star that made sure everyone knew he was a fantastic person; your typical Good Ol' Charlie Brown. But I wasn't in the mood for humanity today, and I was hoping if I appeared standoffish enough, this belligerent oaf would take a hint and leave me alone. I wasn't in the mood to entertain stupidity or foolish friendly gestures.

"Look we kinda got off on the wrong foot back there--" He started awkwardly, and I could tell without looking at him that he felt guilty and crummy since I wasn't his number one fan. 

"I don't have a right foot," I said immediately, shocked that this would actually come in handy and make a good pun. I know it was sick and twisted, and probably a disturbingly dark joke. Definitely not the way you should approach a stranger who had issues with comprehending social cues, but I was an asshole through and through and, in all honesty, didn't really give a damn. 

"What?" The male sputtered, changing what he was going to say last minute as his cheeks gave a rose a run for its money. 

"I don't have a right foot. It got blown to bits in Iraq, so it's actually impossible for us to ever get on the 'right foot'. See what I did there? Since according to you, we got off on the 'wrong' foot. Oh well, just, this is my stop. And I don't think I'll be seeing you again," I said curtly, brushing past him, too peeved to even explain my joke. It was one of my many, irritating habits according to Nat, that I always had to explain my joke as though the other people surrounding me had the brains of a goldfish. 

"But the college is ten stops from here?" He said, clearly confused.

"I know," I said, not looking back to see the frown etched on his face, feeling more bugged out that the guy knew exactly where I was heading. Last time I checked, this entire conversation was filled with one sided bitterness and insults. 

"Wait, I promise I won't bother you. Just--stay. I'd hate to know that I was the one that made you--"

"Lesson number one, you can't make anyone do anything. Everyone acts upon their own free will. And it's impossible, your own brain allows you to take action. Unless you're someone who can somehow control the minds of others, you can't physically make me do anything. Lesson number two, sympathy makes people want to bash your brains out. People don't go looking for sympathy unless they're deranged. People go looking for empathy, compassion, or maybe a smart remark. And lesson number three, first three are always free. Next one costs something, my time's precious," I turned around, brushing past him to the back of the bus. 

I definitely was coming off as a smart ass, and I was a bit ashamed to be quite frank. Unfortunately for the good Samaritans out there, I was ashamed of the fact the sarcastic retort wasn't exactly as original as some of my best work.  

"My name's Anth," he offered, extending his hand, as if he could somehow salvage this horrible encounter. In all honesty, I was kind of stupefied by his uncanny resilience. I was also deeply unnerved by his desperation to talk to me, and I wondered if he was one of those stalkers or human traffickers people talk about using a powerpoint during freshman orientation in college.  

"What? Is this some kind of peace offering? I'm not going to shoot you, if that's what you're wondering," I muttered, hand curled tightly around my backpack strap as I tugged my hat further onto my head as if I was trying to disappear before we would exchange pleasantries. I really needed to get off this bus, I thought to myself, longing for the college campus to approach sooner rather than later. I couldn't wait to see this guy chocking on my dust as I left him to fend for himself in a world that was cruel to the friendly.  

I felt his stare bore into me, and when I couldn't take it any longer, I barked, "What?" 

"This is usually the part where you tell me what your name is," Anth trailed off, a bemused expression on his face. 

"Do you just go around and bother strangers all day?" I retorted, rolling my eyes at him, not yet willing to give him the satisfaction of my name. This guy seriously had a problem, and I was beginning to question whether my safety would be in jeopardy. 

"Just tell me your name and I'll leave you alone," he pleaded. He seemed to have a knack for giving empty promises, and I only met the guy five minutes ago. He also seemed to like to beg a lot, desperately, might I add, as if his life depended on it. 

"It's Fredrick," I muttered, uneasy, as I eyed him. 

Anth looked at me with a flash of confusion that turned to embarrassment before ending up being utter disappointment. He shook his head before saying, "It's a shame you lied."

"I'm Fredrick Allan Phillips," I drew out, raising a confused eyebrow. Okay, now this guy was starting to come off a lot more deranged than I had prophesized earlier.  

"You left your wallet back there and I saw your school ID....." Anth started. 

"Oh hell no," I shook my head, unable to hide the annoyed pout that captured my features. "I really am not in the mood to reenact some sort of obsessive stalker college guy thriller. Do me a favor, and leave me the fuck alone before I call the cops on your ass. Do you understand? Or do you need me to talk slower?" 

Anth's brown grey eyes widened in alarm as he stuck his hands out, as if this was Star Wars and he could use the force to keep me in place. "No--no--no! That's definitely not how I meant to come across. Um--this is awkward. I just--I--you didn't have to lie. I really just didn't mean to make you feel that way. Shit." 

"Couldn't have summed it up better. Now leave me the fuck alone," I said, a cruel smirk capturing my lips. Noticing the bus stopped at the campus, I walked past him making sure our shoulders collided, because I had to demonstrate that I was the one he shouldn't be messing with.

Of course, to my dismay, Anth had to follow me off the bus. Apparently, I didn't knock into his shoulder hard enough, or else my message would have gotten across. 

"You really are a pain in my ass!" I hissed, not giving him the satisfaction of turning around. My life wasn't some romcom where this could turn into some sort of funny cute little interaction or that there could be any salvaging of whatever mess he now got me in.  

"Apparently I go to the same University as you, what are you majoring in?" He asked casually, while avoiding my previous comment, and easily catching up to my unbalanced hobble. 

"How to get annoying people to mind their own business and leave me alone," I deadpanned, trying, and failing, to walk ahead of him. Stupid lack of limb, I cursed myself, knowing all too well, being a movie connoisseur, that the sick bastards preyed on the weak and innocent. I wasn't innocent, but I was at a significant disadvantage when it came to being able to flee.  

"I guess I deserved that," I heard him mutter.

"It would help if you stopped following me," I said, giving him another bit of free advice. Unfortunately, he seemed adamant on ignoring all of my priceless free wisdom.

"I'm majoring in film," he added, keeping up with my pace.

Curse his long legs.

"Good for you, do you want a cookie," I spoke, voice oozing with a fake cheerfulness, before turning left. 

"Wyatt," Anth drawled out.

"What?" I mimicked, irritated. 

"Where's your first class?" He asked me curiously, deciding that he was forcing the both of us to participate in unbearable small talk. 

"Construction and Demolition," I mumbled, hopping the gruffness in my tone would make him come to the realization that there was no getting through to me. I would act like a pompous prick the entire time, and it'd be best if he chose to find some other bitter person to cheer up. 

"Well, that's the wrong way," he said, a sheepish grin as he pointed to the opposite direction. "You know what, I can show you around if you want. After your first class of course. Do you want to meet up somewhere?" 

I rolled my eyes, "I think Hells a good place to start." I definitely wanted to spend as little time as possible with the guy, but he seemed to have other plans in mind. 

"In that case, welcome to Hell," Anth said, sending me a wink. 

|=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=|

My phone buzzed in my pocket before blasting the words to, 'Ice Ice Baby' full volume. The professor sent me a glare, and I sheepishly took my phone out in order to put it on silent. The name's Mom and Dad caused me to pause before ultimately declining the call. 

"Professor Anderson," I said gravely, and I pointed to my phone. 

He looked down at the call sheet, and his cold gaze softened.

"Go ahead," he said quietly, blue eyes not meeting mine. "but hurry up."

"Won't happen again," I muttered gruffly, taking the phone out into the hallway. "What's wrong?"

"Honey, how are you doing?" My mom's voice was laced with concern.

"I'm fine mom. In fact, I'm attending University today, remember? And most people don't answer their parents' calls in the middle of class," I added, hoping she'd get the hint and stop bothering me. 

"I know, it's just that--it's your grandfather. He's in the hospital," she said quietly.

I knew on the other end she was holding her breath, waiting for me to react. It was like I'd just dove into a cold pool, and my senses were dimmed. I could no longer hear her on the other end, could no longer feel my body's motion. I didn't notice the phone slipping through my fingers. Instead I watched helplessly as I crouched to the ground and held my head in my hands. I wasn't going to cry, that, for sure, I did know.

All I did was sit there, and think about how ironic it was I was wishing for a catastrophe to happen this morning, looks like my prayers were answered. Of course this time the sick prick had to actually make them come true, rather than the other times when I needed Him most.  

"Wyatt?" My mother's voice asked worriedly. "Wyatt, are you there? Do you need me to call someone? Are you alright? Mar--"  

I heard her refer to my father in the alarmed voice that dripped with the need to protect her son. 

"Mom, I'm okay," my voice shook, but I just focused on my breathing, trying to hide the embarrassment of the fact my parents' still worried about me like I was seven. 

I heard her release a big breath, "Christ! I thought I lost you there for moment."

She had a nervous laugh then, and I couldn't help but think she'd already lost me. They all had.