𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

01. fuckhead

tuesday,
september 1st, 2020

EZRA GREYSTONE

Sitting alone under a cherry blossom tree examining Greenwich University's campus with a rapid heartbeat feels foreign. It doesn't feel like home, because I'm not home. In fact, I'm approximately 640 kilometres from home; Edinburgh.

Although it feels like I'm stepping into unchartered territory, at least I'm not doing it alone.

"Alright fuckhead?"

No, no I'm far from alone, for I have four of my outrageous friends to keep me company.

Back in 2018, my buddies and I spent three weeks at the end of the summer here. We were all the mere age of 16 and we were staying in these shitty dorm rooms with the summer school we signed up for. The weeks consisted of testing out a dozen courses in Greenwich University because it wouldn't be long until we'd have to make a decision on where we wanted to study.

Myself and Lola carried out this process with a variety of universities. Birmingham, Manchester, Glasgow, even our local uni in Edinburgh. But none seemed to fit the way this one quite did and the boys' hearts were set on London, hence why all five of us took a giant leap of faith and moved down here together to try and make this lifestyle work for us.

Sure, our parents were skeptical, but we've known each other since the beginning of secondary school when we were just about twelve years old and remained a tight knit group throughout our A Levels in upper secondary, years ten through thirteen and the little ages of fourteen 'til now.

I think they knew we'd keep each other safe and sane.

I look up from my carton of raspberries, that I'm too nervous to pick at, and meet the eye of my best friend, Lola. It's only when I part my lips to reply that I see the other three 'fuckheads' approach us too.

"I'm not a fuckhead," I purse my lips, watching as the three boys sit themselves down around me.

"Gimme one of those," Leo says, effortlessly grabbing four raspberries from my box and shoving them all in his mouth. "And you're a complete fuckhead, Theo."

I narrow my eyes at the scruffy-haired boy, "I wish you'd stop calling me by my middle name."

"But it rhymes with mine," he pouts, "We're a duo."

"Give it a rest, Leo," Ollie pipes up, following in his mate's footsteps and stealing a handful of raspberries, "What's a fuckhead anyways?"

Milo looks at me expectantly next and I roll my eyes, handing him my container. He grins broadly and cheesily, letting me know he's thankful without verbally thanking me.

"Yeah," he says with a nod of his curly head, voice muffled through a mouthful of berries, "Do you even have a definition, Lo?" Milo pointedly glances at Lola and she just shrugs.

"I wanna dye my hair," Lola replies, changing the subject. I'm sure it's because she doesn't even know what she's on about herself.

"What colour?" I ask, entertaining her idea.

She shrugs again, twisting a strand of her naturally blonde hair around her thumb, "Pink? Purple? I don't know."

"How 'bout black?" Leo snickers.

Milo scoffs, "Don't pull the piss, Leo. Red would be much nicer."