Chapter Text
Arthur slammed his balled-up fist down onto his alarm clock, his irritation flowing off him like waves in the ocean. The young college student quickly ran around his flat, getting dressed and devouring a bowl of disgustingly bland cereal, at the same time. He couldn’t quite remember why he bought it, when he hated it so much. Either way, within a couple of painstaking minutes, Arthur had locked the door, grabbed his bag for college, and sprinted to the bus stop. He gratefully thanked whatever deity was out there helping him, as he jumped onto the bus.
Briefly scanning his card and taking his receipt, the young, only slightly frazzled man sat down and put his bag on his lap, as he stared out of the window, watching the world positively fly on by. Arthur knew the trip would take an hour or two, his place of living woefully far away from his place of learning. His eyes closed slowly, the world fading into an endless expanse of darkness.
But not for long. He was startled awake as he saw visions of a dark forest, a run-down cabin, and a…vehicle of some sort, lying on its side, bleeding oil and mutilated bodies.
Arthur’s eyes flashed open almost immediately, sweating heavily as his eyes spread open, his university standing right in front of him. He stepped off of the bus, nervously entering through the two, slightly foreboding wooden doors, his hair sticking up on end when he heard the creaking. Arthur sighed, he knew this’d be a long day.
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The day had passed ever so slowly, creeping along akin to a snail. Slow, and deliberate. His first lecture had been on psychology, and Arthur could feel a slight ache from just how zealous his note-taking had been. It’d been one of his more well-liked subjects, they’d been studying the nature of pathological liars and manipulators, and he’d been so focused on note-taking he completely forgot to actually absorb the information he was being given! Ah well, Arthur sighed inwardly. He’d wait until he got home to revise it, he had told himself at the time. After a well-deserved break, Arthur had decided to stay in a nearby, sleepy coffee shop for the next couple hours, slowly energising himself on the americano he ordered, as he typed furiously on his laptop, writing out his English essay. He’d written about Frankenstein, describing and explaining what the monster symbolised, and who was the actual villain of the novel. Arthur could still remember the feeling of relief he felt as he finally finished, saving it and emailing it to his professor for later in the week.
For now, though, Arthur was on his way home. He leaned his head on the window of the bus, sleepily. He’d worn himself out by now, working tirelessly and chugging coffee as he did so. Arthur didn’t have many, if any, friends: he believed they were just a distraction from his work. He didn’t want to stay in school for long, just enough to get his degrees. He could flee after that.
Well, that was Arthur’s plan. But life has a nasty knack for changing things on a whim, for the better or the worse. Or, in this case, quite possibly the worst.