PaperGhosts
Member
Guyden
| Location | Outside Girls' Dormitory | Mentions |
Lurker
Mood
(Just passing by!) | Mood | Confused, possibly concerned for his mental state |
Seated in the back of a sleek Lexus, a young man slouched deep into the conditioned leather seat. The slacks he wore were too formfitting, tight in areas that made him shimmy and grabbed at them for any room they would give. His silver-dyed locks were disheveled from having napped with his face smooshed into the backseat crevice less than twenty minutes before. A once crisp black blazer had been balled up into what appeared to be a makeshift pillow. The tie he wore had been pulled loose around his neck, a few buttons undone at the crumpled collar of his white button up. There was a daze in his eyes as he stared out the window. Not sad, just dull and almost unblinking.
It was a blaring ring that broke his attention and reminded him that his eyes had grown dry. Rubbing one roughly, he stifled a yawn and turned his attention to the tablet embedded in the back of the passenger seat. His mother's photo lit up the screen, urging him to accept the voice call. There was a split second of hesitation as he debated on answering or not. One look at his chauffeur'ss side eye in the mirror and he decided against ignoring the call. It wasn't polite to ignore his own mother, even if it did result in some nagging. He stretched out a finger to swipe the screen, unmoving from his laxed position. The nitpicking began immediately.
"Guyden! Do pick up faster, I don't have--don't slouch! It's unsightly. You were raised to sit like a polite young man, not a hooligan. What have you done to your uniform? I made sure the maid freshly steamed it early this morning. Now you look like you pulled it from a dump. Is this how you want to start your first day? Do you want people to think of you as a filthy bum?"
"No, ma'am," he murmured, clearing the rasp from his throat. He could tell his mother didn't approve of that, either.
"Dear, how many times has your father told you? Speak clear and with confidence."
"Yes, ma'am," he said again, his voice only slightly louder and still very much monotone. He found his eyes beginning to wander from the screen, and it took ever ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes on her as she rambled on after a scoff for good measure. He wasn't trying to sound indifferent or cowardly, but she sure did make it hard for him to be excited about much. She was always like this, telling him to fix his this or that. His father was no better. It wasn't his intention to disappoint, but in all honesty he couldn't even fathom what it would take to live up to their standards even if he tried. It was a short call, thankfully, as she was on her way to another meeting. She berated him for a few additional issues and remarked on what she and his father expected from Guyden. Finally, Mrs. Blake finished with reminding him that his luggage would arrive later the next day and to make sure he was present in the case that the roommate had sticky fingers. He withheld an eyeroll on that remark.
"Good luck with the meeting," he said politely. She responded with a curt nod and a sharp goodbye before the screen went black. No I love you's. Just a send off. Guyden's lip twitched into almost a scowl, but more so at the headache forming above his brow than anything else.
The rest of the ride continued on as it had before. They arrived at Manchester Academy shortly after, pulling up to the main building. The campus was already fairly populated by this point, which didn't bode well for Guyden. This meant more obstacles to avoid whilst trying to find his dorm. Everything had been set for him so that all that was left for him to do was go straight for his room. Ducking out of the sedan, he stretched and yawned, covering his mouth as he did so. His chauffeur had already retrieved his overnight bag and guitar.
"Are you sure you don't want me to carry this up for you?" The driver asked. Guy nodded lightly as he reached out for his guitar.
"It won't be necessary," he assured, as he slung the bulky case's strap over his shoulder and accepted his duffle. "Thank you. Have a safe drive back." The man was unfazed by the teen's flat tone, and merely nodded in farewell before returning to the car. Guyden was already wandering away when the man hollered after him.
"Sir, you forgot your blazer!"
Guy paused, glancing back at him in thought. Then he waved dismissively, "Keep it!" And kept walking. It wasn't his style, anyway. He proceeded to walk blindly about the campus until his was able to locate signage pointing the way to the boy's dorms. It had taken him fifteen minutes, but he was surprisingly unbothered. In fact, he had seemed quite lost in thought as he walked, only looking down when he past by others. The air was nice this far out from a city, and the weather was pleasant. The school seemed to have plenty of green space, too, which would be nice to escape to later. So far, Guy was confident he would be able to get comfortable here. The dorm building, he had noted as he entered the elevator, was quite nice. Not too extravagant, like he had expected. As he watched the floor numbers climb, he almost smiled at the idea of spending a whole year away at a boarding school. It was already better than home, given his parents were not able to randomly show up and disrupt his flow. Aside from class, he would have way more time to focus on his music. In spite of his parents' intentions, this was almost like a vacation for him. He just happened to be sharing his hotel room with a stranger.
A stranger who, about fifteen feet away, was currently hugging a small woman in the doorway of what he had gathered was his new room. Guyden blinked slowly, before glancing at the room numbers again. Yes, that would be his. Well, he supposed he wasn't in any rush to get unpacked. They seemed to be having a moment, and Guyden would hate to break that up. Almost as quickly as he had found his dorm did he casually turn to leave. The hall had a couple other students milling about, so the pair most likely wouldn't have noticed him anyway.
It was as he was heading for the elevator that he caught a glimpse of red, and glanced down. Tied to his pinky finger was a red string, heading for the stairwell. How in the hell did that get there? He glared at it, a bit baffled. Was this the supposed string of fate? Honestly, he had assumed that was all just a metaphor. Had someone with the school coordinated this? After all, they were selling the whole "come find your soulmate" amenity. The question was, when and how did they manage to get that on his hand? He had been planning to check out the courtyard by the dorms, perhaps even play a song or two, but this had piqued his interest. He'd take the bait if only to satiate his own curiosity.
So down he went, all the way down the stairwell to the first floor and out of the dorms. The thread was ridiculously long, heading to the other end of campus. Who had the time and patience for this? He wanted to see what the order of red thread looked like to be able to pull this off for each student.
Guyden was still in doubt that the thread would lead to anything at all, let alone a soulmate. And yet he couldn't help but find it peculiar when he reached a deadend. Stopped at the entrance to the girl's dormitory, he quirked an eyebrow at the building. The thread ran through the closed entrance. He supposed wherever it officially ended would be somewhere in there, but he wouldn't play anymore. It would be incredibly impolite of him to wander into a girls dorm building. Frowning lightly, he studied the thread, still oh so curious what the trick was. Testing its strength, he tugged hard on it, expecting the red thread to snap in the door. To his shock, it held tight no matter how much he yanked on it.
"Mmm," he grunted, completely stunned at the integrity of whatever the material was. How much did they spend on this gimmick? What an interesting place his parents had chosen for him.
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
