Sitting up to the sound of his phone going off, playing Headstrong from Trapt, Rebel pushed himself off of his bed to stagger to the dresser and turn it up, shaking his hair wildly from his face.
Opening his eyes, he looked at the blurry room surrounding him, his hair was a powdered blue mop on his head, poking out every which way. Jaws parting for a yawn, Rebel scratched his stomach that wasn't clad in a shirt, sleep lines embedded into the already scarred and tattooed skin of his thin figure.
The Russian lad pulled out a pair of white skinny jeans with more than a few holes in the legs and safety pinned shut with black safety pins and tugged them on, looping a black bullet belt through the thin belt loops, his chain clipped onto two of them.
Rolling on a black V-neck, Rebel shook out his hair once more, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he staggered to the bathroom, plugging in his straightener while he scrubbed his face and teeth, beginning to comb through his powdered blue hair, heating it until it was perfectly straight and hung down the sides of his face. Unplugging it, the groggy male pulled out a tube of hair gel and spiked his hair so it hung straight up, then proceeded to blow-dry it so it was soft to the touch, though spiked straight in the air. Cleaning up his hair-necessities, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the bathroom drawer, flipping the lid open and pulled a single white bundle with his even white teeth and struck the zippo lighter, lighting the cancerous stick, smoke released into the air, burning his lungs like a poisonous kiss that burned the lining of his lungs with toxic fumes.
Walking out of the front door, he pocketed the phone that was now playing Bittersweet from Fuel.
Seven sins of wantonness and
everything that's good is gone
Sell it all for glory from the peers
Silicone priestess scratch the back and
twists the knife to bone
Kick against the pricks and scrape the shins
I'm the enemy in the enemies now
Swallowed the pill
Drank to the fill
All these things I carry now
In this bittersweet, in this bittersweet now
Try to hold the world there sinking,
swimming in a paper cup
Try to own the one beneath the skin
Held up to the flame 'till singeing
skin begins to draw and tuck
Never told there's a chance to win
What couldn't be, wouldn't be now
Hold your hands up to the sky and try
so hard to rise above
But everything is beating down
He murmured some of the words under his breath but didn't slow in his pace as he neared a gas station, wishing to buy a new pack of cigarettes, as his cancerous stick was gone and his supply depleted.
Seeing a few people he knew and did not like crowding the entrance, Rebel suppressed an eye-roll and turned away from the station, walking towards school, stuffing his hands in his leather jacket pockets to avoid eye-contact with anyone.
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(To view all of her tattoos and her hair and basically what she looks like, look up Sara Fabel on Google, most of her pictures were watermarked so I could not use them.)
Sara stepped outside in an outfit consisting of a black over shirt that was cut up in the back into a large radioactive symbol, underneath a white tank top that shoved the tattoo on her chest and both arms. She had a pair of black ripped shorts that went to her thighs, also showing the tattoos there, and to top it off, a pair of black knee high converse with white laces. Though she was a pretty dark and punk looking female, she had very light makeup, only a dash of Chapstick and some black eyeliner with wings.
Moving her straightened blonde hair from her eyes, Sara raised a hand and scratched the shaved side of her head, the short locks scraping the pads of her fingers like stubble on a man's jaw.
Walking down the sidewalk, Sara pushed the glasses that fell down the bridge of her nose.
Reaching the school, she stepped right through the threshold, her first day of school began now, and so far, she was gaining quite a few stares because of the tattoos that covered her entire body, especially her neck and chest area.
Seeing one cheerleader grimacing at her, Sara paused in front of her, resting her fists on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg, "You got a problem, hun?" She asked, dragging her tongue across her lower lip, the lean muscles that ran along her arms tensed, poised for a hit.
The girl rolled her eyes, her upper lip curling in disgust, "New kid, gross, all of those tattoos are going to look even uglier when you're old,"
"Yeah, yeah," Sara said, rolling her eyes at her whiny tone, "You tell me how nice you'll look when you're ninety, darling," She said and continued walking, her chin held high, proud of her tattoos.
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Waking up with a start, Alea rolled out of her bed with a grunt, only in a pair of black cloth shorts and a white wife beater.
Reaching around for something to hold onto while she turned her light on, Alea gripped her bed post and turned her lamp on, instantly cringing from the bright beam of light that illuminated the room. "J'taime?" She called out, her French accent soft and groggy as she called for her Sugar Glider who was curled in his pouch that lay on her dresser.
Picking the pouch up, she smiled sweetly at the stirring Glider within, "J'taime, J'taime.." She cooed, letting it crawl out onto her hands.
Setting it on her bed, she grabbed a pair of white jeans with black rips and a Carnifex shirt, pulling both on before she walked to her bathroom, J'taime using his 'wings' to glide over to her shoulder while she straightened her short white hair, brushing it to one side until it fell perfectly how she wanted it.
Putting on scarce amounts of makeup, she unplugged her straightener and walked to her kitchen, seeing her parent's door open, showing they had left again in the night, probably going back to Paris, they always went there without telling her, even though that was Alea's home.
Pulling out a fruit salad from the fridge, Alea hummed a soft tune under her breath and sat the bowl on the table, scooping some out into a much smaller bowl and put J'taime nearby for his breakfast while she put the larger bowl away, "Salut, J'taime!" She called over her shoulder, lacing her converse up and grabbing her backpack, walking out the door.
At school, she walked straight to her locker, ignoring how tall everyone was compared to her only being 5'3 and stuffed a book into her locker, shutting it again before she leaned back against the metal lockers, watching the people around her with curiosity written into her expression.
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A loud buzzing sound woke Alexander, who was tangled in his black blanket, his hair going every which way, he grunted, pushed the dismissing button on his alarm and got up, tripping over his own legs as he grabbed a change of clothes and slid into the bathroom, plugging his straightener in and changing into a pair of tight black skinny jeans with chains dangling from his back pockets and a black v-neck that showed his chest tattoo he brought a cigarette to his lips, then brought his straightener to the cigarette, the heat licking up Alexander's face, making him cringe a bit but he held it to the cigarette until it lit, then began straightening his hair, hairspraying it when finished, he unplugged It and left it in the sink, he leaned into the sink slightly to get closer to the mirror as he lifted his shirt slightly, looking at his new hip piercings, which were slightly red rimmed and swollen, he sighed, dropping his shirt on his thin torso and moved his hair forward a bit to examine his stretched ears, which he needed to upsize soon, not liking the 1 inch sizes anymore. He walked out of the bathroom, tossing his pajamas into the hamper beside the bathroom door.
Walking outside after getting ready, he shoved his grey beanie onto his hair that was beginning to get shaggy. Arriving at school, a yawn parted his jaws and blurred his vision momentarily.
