The Rich Idiots

Prologue

Hiding isn't his hobby, in fact he hated it. He's claustrophobic. He shifts a lot and doesn't seem to stay in place. His aching feet and fast heartbeat isn't even helping a bit.Van struggled to calm himself and managed to squeeze further into his sanctuary when he heard voices and heavy footsteps heading dangerously close to his hiding place. He wasn't exactly a coward but he isn't too brave either.

He's head was now throbbing from anxiety as the sound of rubber shoes became louder but abruptly stopped and headed towards a sound on the other side of the hallway. Waiting, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The place smelled like dead rats and vomit. He scrunched his face in disgust as he pushed the door open when he was sure nobody was around and stumbled out.

He glanced at the night sky, Van wasn't sure how long he spent inside the janitor's closet but it was already dark. He was surprised that the box he was sitting on didn't collapse under his weight yet the proof was his aching limbs, the result for staying on the same position the whole time with the struggle of not making a sound and yet he still pushed his feet to walk faster to his car--which wasn't on the parking lot anymore. Frustrated, he sighed and started walking with the memory of his mother's scowl imprinted in his mind.

Perfect, something to look forward to. Van thought bitterly.

He continued walking until he was at the bus stop and sat at the farthest corner of the seats. Wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform, he cursed. His mother is strict when it came to curfews and defying her won't make it any better. He looked out at the dark night sky thinking about how he'll reason out his situation. Speaking of, he might have looked close to hell when he noticed the stares he was receiving. His jet-black hair was disheveled -which he tried to comb with his hand but to no avail- and his uniform was a mess from trying to hide stealthily.

The least he could do was pat the dirt off his pants and fix his tie. Sometimes he wanted to rip it off with annoyance when he felt like it was too tight around his neck or he was just too lazy to make it look decent but his mother just dismissed the thought with the reason of propriety and he hated it so much but there was nothing he could do to change her mind once it's already set. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't even notice that it was already his stop.

Walking to the front gate of his house he breathed in, preparing for his mother's wrath and punched in the code at the machine embedded on the wall. As he was walking on the long pebbled path of the front lawn before reaching the front porch, the panic was already engulfing him and he forgot the million reasons he could say to his mother. Van stopped just a few steps to the door and turned around to climb up his room instead, so to escape the probably rampaging woman behind the door but sharp pain erupted from the back of his forehead and spots danced along his vision as he fell on the cold wooden floor of his front porch with a muffled 'oof '.

He felt as if he was being tied and the feeling of fainting was so tempting he would've gave in but fighting seemed to be a better idea now, just to keep his eyes open. He was the least shocked when he saw the assailants' smirking faces. He scowled at them.

"Well well well... Alas! The great Fraçois Van Cortez has been captured by The Awesome Roan McDonner." The first assailant. The most irritating British accented asshole he could ever remember. A smug grin plastered on his face, looking down at Van.

The pain at the back of his head is now overwhelming that he couldn't stay awake anymore. He said the first sentence that he could think of and savored his victory when he saw the annoyance on the face of his captor and the low snickering of the others before his consciousness slipped.

"Damn you, McDonnalds."