Monday morning finally came and Yixing was still in bed. Nothing new; he was still as fond of his bed as ever. But unfortunately this sweet ‘love story’ had to be cruelly interrupted by his mother barging in like a mad woman, screaming to the top of her lungs for him to wake up, not wanting her beloved son to be late on his first day to school of course. However, as response, she only received a louder snore.

How charming, she thought.

Sighing, she made her way towards his bed and used force, that is, tickles; it was the only effective way she had found in all his 18 years of living to wake him up. He probably had the most sensitive neck of all persons on earth; even the lightest wind would make him go crazy and this weakness of his often came of great use to his mother. He would laugh and scream as if he was being tortured to death, and do whatever he is asked just to be spared from similar torture, just like now; hilarious scene I swear.

“HAHAHAHAHA! STOP I’M AWAKE. I’M AWAKE.”

With a satisfied smile, his mother, left his room without forgetting to open the curtains, letting the sun rays get in and hit his annoyed-sleepy-cute face, making sure that there was no way for him to fall back into slumber.

[...]

It didn’t take him long to prepare, in fact, he was already in front of his new school’s gate now. He had taken the first bus and was quite early to school; only few students could be seen around at that time and he liked it like that.

He didn’t lose any second and went directly to the Secretary’s office to get his schedule.

Being a Dance Major, he didn’t have much theory classes and it pleased him quite much; tiresome classes such as Biology or even Economics were never his ‘style.’ Some of you may wonder why and the answer is quite simple; he didn’t do well in this kind of subjects. Why, you’d ask again; mainly because he didn’t really revise; the sole idea of opening a book gave him shivers and his mother never taught him otherwise since she too, wasn’t at all fond of books. Like Mother Like Son.

Soon, the school’s corridors began to get filled up with students of his age, some younger and some older. Already he could distinguish the little groups forming in the rest area; you know, those peer groups that like, magically find each other as soon as they see each other. Yixing let out a sarcastic chuckle to himself; these kinds of relations are always just momentary, he thought. In his previous school, he noticed how one day you could be best friends with someone and the other, backstab this same person without