The Tutor And The Punk

How I met her/Rin secret! (Edited)

Len's P.O.V

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blazing at my ear. I fluttered my eyes open as I slammed my hand down on the alarm. As much as I hate that thing, I need it for basic life. It's alarm clock number one. I have another one, but you'll learn about that later. I rubbed my eyes open and stretch. Lazily, I slowly dragged myself out of bed as I looked at the time.

'5:30 am'

Perfect. I walked over to the bathroom and took a shower. I'm a person of hygiene due to my lovey, highly active sweat glands that don't know when to shut down. Aren't I a lucky dude.

Screw.My.Hell-Hole.Life.

A little bit later, I came out and got ready for school. Our school doesn't really have a school uniform. The policy is forever the same and is forever overlooked. Highly overlooked.

Policy 1: Anything is fine as long as it's appropriate.

I know, it's a very funny joke to tell the girls at school. I never knew that girls wearing shirts that expose their entire stomach and stop right before their breast with super tight and short shorts to go with the top is appropriate. There is another policy that is forever overlooked as well.

Policy: No make-up or jewelry.

Another very hilarious joke the girls love to laugh at. Some girls just don't know when to stop. I understand putting on a little mascara and lip-gloss for the sake of having a presentable public appearance, but putting on heavy, sticky red lip stick with a truckload of mascara and eye shadow is simply vomit-inducing. I swear, some girls ravish themselves in some of the most expensive-looking jewelry they bought at the dollar store for the sake of competition with another female that bought some jewelry from the same dollar store.

I simply put on some dark navy pants, a white button-up shirt with a light blue sweater, white socks, and black dress shoes.

Before I left for school, I checked the time.

'6:40'

I have time.

I quickly strolled down to my parent's old room. It's at the end of the hall, straight across from a huge picture of a plant. I stop at the doorway. Everything is disgustingly perfect and beautiful. The bed was still in place, not an inch out of place. Ugly red and black covers were neatly draped over it. The bed frame's color was a depressing black. It was comforting though. Next to the bed was an old wooden table my Father made during his 3rd year of college. It was a project for the art class he took, or so he says. I'm not all that sure why he kept it though. Its wood is old and weak. The paint is chipped and has lost its vibrant color. Overall, it's something someone would want to get rid of right away due to its ugliness or hide due to how embarrassing it is. I know why I keep it though. It's really the only thing left that I have of my Father. My Father was not a man of shopping. I can swear you that.

Then, there's the center piece of it all.

The dresser. An old dresser with creaky wood and hinges that sing whenever you open the doors. The color alone is enough to make someone gag. A gross, pale green color. The same color someone's face turns the second before they puke. The pegs at the bottom are not the same height. The two on the left side of the dresser are shorter than the two on the right. Just a bit shorter though. Nothing to bad. I put small, wooden rectangles to balance it out. The dresser is outlined with a gold colored paint. It doesn't compliment the pale green at all. All it does is add on to the ugliness, but it's what my parents liked, so I learned to deal with it. Even though the dresser is ugly and old, it means a lot to me.

I walked into the room and sat down in front of the dresser. I slowly opened the dresser to see the pictures of my parents that I displayed there.