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❝ Falling for him wasn't falling at all. It was walking into a house and knowing you're home. ❞ -r.i.d.
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James Potter was running late. Again.
It wasn't his fault he never heard the alarm . . . the first five times it rang every morning. The boy slept like a bear. Band practice until 9 p.m. and spending the following four hours finishing up schoolwork was an awful combination, yet such was the life he'd chosen.
Many days, he seriously questioned whether or not all of it was worth it. On several occasions, he had almost called it quits (emphasis on the almost) but he could never bring himself to. The band meant too much to him, and yes, even if that required sacrificing precious hours of sleep and free time that he instead spent trying to maintain a somewhat decent academic life. Being a sleep-deprived student that sprinted to catch the school bus every morning minutes before its departure was a compromise James had been willing to make.
That being said, the cold sweats of discomfort that ran down his back as he waved frantically at the driver to keep the bus doors open hadn't gone anywhere. One'd think he would have outgrown his mortification by now-or, at the very least, made peace with it-seeing as he'd been running late for the past three years of high school, but alas! James felt as guilty that morning as he did any other.
So when he stepped onto the bus, messy-haired and panting from all the running, all he could manage was an awkward smile and the same old, "Sorry" muttered under his breath. The bus driver, Minerva McGonagall shook her head.
"Good morning, Potter," she said blankly. "Take a seat."
He lowered his head, blood rushing to his face, and plopped down on the front seat behind the driver's.
Surprisingly, even though the seats up front were closer to the exit, they were the last to be taken when the swarm of students entered the bus. James never understood the appeal of the seats at the end, but those were filled first. Given that all of the noise and occasionally loud music came from there, those seemed like the seats where the 'troublesome kids' sat. Which sounded right on brand for James Potter and his crew. Except there were two problems: none of James' friends took this bus, and he was too sleep deprived this early in the morning to even tolerate-let alone have the energy for-loud noises. Hence why he sat up front: at this exact seat, next to the exact same person who also seemed to have a preference for the spot.
