MISC «morose! morose! morose!»

VI

VI.

 

  Carson's mother was considerably worried upon rereading the letter of acceptance. She knew one day Carson would regret it. Wearing his heart for an armor, confusing people's armor for amour was something pathologically wrong with his mind, and that is why — usually she'd fence him on all sides — with morals, morals and more morals.

   You can't guess how freeing it was for the lad when he finally got away. To the land of estranged, the very same Pinocchio once went to. Carson kept things. But secrets and lies aren't equals? So he was all right. All right until she walked in.

   Transfer students. The emerald gardens were nourished with money. Cash flow is desirable for running any institution. Romanstoff, most often than not, is on a lookout for exotic students who can cover gigantic fees.

   Carson blew a chunk of his hair off his forehead while thinking.

   He couldn't stop thinking.

   Maybe that's why he's so undesirable.

   Venice Dalton. She was small as a pet door, had a sharp upturned nose. Colorful tie adorned her neck, trailing down her flat chest. She was a black person. Carson would die if she went out with him.

   "White day, eh?" A spiky haired, large guy chances upon her.

   Venice turned to a side. "Should be pink day," was her response.

   Left the guy speechless.

   Carson internally screamed. This is a sign!

   Moments later though, he caught the chime of some other dude saying — "she's a mathlete, leave her. Nerds are not worth it."

   Carson got so angry that his ears turned pink. He stomped his feet and puffed his chest, before he said aloud, "that's... That's still better than... Better than a no good bad boy who fails classes!"

   Carson had almost forgotten they weren't alone. Not only  Venice's attention tilted towards this new voice but also the overall class atmosphere dropped. Carson blanched. "Who are you, rat ass?" The jerk was ready to attack him.

   Every fibre in Carson's body begged him to sprint out.

   Yet, he stayed rooted. Firmly. Standing his grounds, hands shaking and feet curling. Bloody great star of a new year, yes?

   Carson bit back a cry.

   He wished whoever's subject it was, would just hurry.

   Of course, the villain is much faster than the savior.

   Speaking of which, the Penn siblings arrive. Eleanor, Westerly and last, holding a binder stack was Normani.

  The flare of their popularity was evidently heavier than the thrill of any fistfights. Ellie—Eleanor owned her space, looking fresh as ever. Her words curled in a menacing tone — "it's white day isn't it, Nora? Do I need a calendar because this gentleman -"

   "Shut up, cunt!"

   Gasps.

   "Oh no, no no no, mm no."

    Eleanor shocked everyone by stepping closer to the guy twice her size, as if she didn't care about anything — interfering for the sake of peace. "Muscles and bad language isn't all that shit. I can—" she lifted a finger—"take this and point my wolves at you." Then, a little darkly — "if I were you, I would return to the same wretched place I came from. Right, Wes?"

   And, just like that — a fist was thrown her way. You can't blame the bully — Eleanor, for greater good, can be provocative. Luckily, Wes sure knows his way. He kicked the guts out of that asshole. The lovely fight scene ended with different reactions — Venice's heart still going hundred miles per minute, Carson partially peeing his boy panties, Westerly telling the big a happy white day before parting and his sisters following his suit, wearing dastardly smirks as crowns.

   Later, after calming down, as everyone were back to their whatever — Carson approached Venice. "I guess it's a little too late to tell you but you don't mess with royalty, " it wasn't much of an approach as much as a warning.

   It caused Venice to spark. With fear, excitement — with madness, passion. She was sat next table to his. "Royalty?" She quipped, not quite meeting his eye.

   "Yes. Royalty is invincible," he spoke earnestly.

    It earned him some intimacy points, for, soon the dark beauty was dragging—scraping across her plastic chair, towards him on purpose. "Tell me more..."

   Carson's mind was a chamber of unimportant facts. Right, he dramatically searched the word "RR" or "Romanstoff Royalty" as coined by the boys, which were —

   "Kaisei Seon, look  he's... There."

   Indeed, he was. A croissant'wich, half finished, long elegant fingers were wrapped around it, a bored demeanor. Somewhat, psychology was one of his interests. "He's like a Korean actor!" Mused Venice Dalton, easily excitable.

  Carson shushed her. When that didn't stop Dalton — he sighed too, pursing and parting lips to say — "because he's from there."

   "There... There where?"

    "Korea."

    "Korea!!" A big smile he accomplished.

    An airheaded mathlete, thought Carson White, how cute.

    In silence, they waited on their ma'am while an exquisite looking Kai unwrapped silver paper and nibbling softly, he settled on the last bench. Venice noted a tiny ear piece buried under a mass of flopping hair, him mumbling.
"So you're telling me mobiles and food are allowed in class? Awesome!!!"

   "You sound like Anna Farris, " her acquaintance muttered.

   "Pardon?"

    Venice's positive confusion was too cute for Carson to answer. So he didn't. He pushed it off — "nothing... nothing"

   That's when the teacher turned up as well.

  

    Kai loved and loathed the seating arrangement. Granted, it was a huge room paired with good ventilation and advocates who blamed mbti for their assholish streak, yet Kai wished it were... Friendlier? Even a boa can slide through the rows and its columns, that spacious. He waved a hand through his hair while pondering if the royalty should change the singular tables, replacing it with longer ones so that more than a pair of twos can sit together, not that Kai had anyone.

   His regular spot didn't come with a window.

   The seats of royalty members were fixed. No doubt about that.

   Kai could not bring himself to cause a ruckus for his own comfort. After all, power and pain are closely related.

   Due to his height, Kaisei Seon didn't think it'd be wise for him to sit in the front. It'd be problematic for others, wouldn't it? Of course, there was one guy almost the same height as Kai. A certain British womanizer named —

   "Wes! It's my turn up next! Wes!" Followed with a groan.

   Females.

   Such behaviorists.

    Fawning over overt appearances, eh? Typical.

   He was lucky to have Eleanor Penn. Focused, balanced, levelheaded.

   Definitely lucky.

   He turned another page of his psychology textbook, quietly, absentmindedly.

    -