Is he attached ?

In the morning, Dylan woke up with a soft grunt of discomfort. He had slept wrong for sure. Sitting up with a soft wince, his hand went to his shoulder and rubbed the sore spot in circles. Darn bed.

After a moment of soothing the pain just a bit, Dylan got up and went straight to the bathroom. He knew by now that Trent and Sam were always gone at this time of day. He didn't know why, it wasn't like they had jobs. Dylan never thought about it too much as he used the rest of his water to brush his teeth and wash his face. The last time he used the water here, he got sick for two weeks. That definitely made him learn his lesson.

After changing and brushing his teeth, he swung his backpack over his shoulder. Today, he had overslept so there was no time to go to Forever Incline. That definitely put a damper on his mood. Though, he probably needed the sleep. Dylan had been stressing out a bit later for, seemingly, no reason. Dylan headed out the door, a small frown resting on his lips.

He walked to the restaurant, getting his car, and going slightly over the speed limit in order to get to the school in time. He usually wasn't one to speed, but he knew if he was late to a single class or didn't show up at all, he would hear about it at home. That was the last thing he wanted. One time, when he was a freshman, he had skipped a class since someone had bumped into him and punched him. He had never been one to fight back, not unless it was for someone else's safety. It just wasn't how he worked. The teacher ended up calling Trent to explain what had happened and Dylan definitely was feeling his mistake for weeks. He still has a scar on his back from the damage.

Shaking his head, Dylan scowled at himself. He needed to stop zoning out into his own, mostly depressing, thoughts. Pulling up at the school, he hoped out of the car and raced inside. He wanted to be in the back, just like always. The sound of his shoes skidding across the floor every couple of steps made him cringe. He wasn't even running anymore, more just walking quickly. His shoes were old and covered in sweat. That made it so if he goes any faster than a walk his shoes make a very loud and attention-drawing squeak.

After a moment, he entered his first period, sitting where he always does. He didn't know why, but if he didn't sit in this exact spot every time, he would be anxious the entire class period. Dylan was pretty sure it was because he needed some sort of stability in his life. Him sitting in the same spot everyday gave him that… sorta.

Dylan pulled out the books he needed for this class to be prepared. You never knew when the teacher was going to walk in and start teaching. It didn't matter if the bell had rung yet or not. That's another, small, reason why Dylan liked to be early. The teachers here were cruel. Truthfully, everyone here was. Although he didn't talk to anyone, it was easy to see how cruel everyone was to each other. Shoving people into lockers, giving snarky, crude, comments, and lots of fights. Dylan knew that this was probably normal everywhere, it just surprised him that best friends would do it to each other. Is that really how best friends acted? If it was, he was extra happy that he didn't have one.

Dylan wasn't good at social interactions or even knowing how people acted with each other. From a very young age, he kept to himself. The first reason was for his foster parents telling him to. But, when he found out about his wings, it turned more into a personal choice than something he did out of fear. Well… it still was out of fear, but for a different fear. Dylan wasn't sure if that was better or not. Probably not.

After waiting for about five minutes, people flooded in as the bell rang loudly in everyone's ears. Why did they have to make it so ear piercingly loud with such an annoying sound? Why couldn't they make it a medium noise with something a tad bit more pleasant? Or, the same volume with a pleasant noise. It would make it at least a tad bit more bearable.

After a minute or two, the teacher still wasn't here. So, Dylan pulled out his sketchbook and began to draw. Without paying attention, girls to the right of him began talking about a new girl. Her name was Avonlea Barlowe.

In his subconscious, he began thinking of her. His hand began to sketch the outline of her face from memory. That's how much he thought of her. He was pretty sure he had even dreamt about her that night. He just refused to believe it. There was no way it was right. He was strong enough to keep his walls up even for a pretty and sweet girl. He was sure of it. Hopefully.

Apparently, the teacher forgot to call in or something because up until the last five minutes of class, there was no teacher. Dylan didn't mind, it gave him more time to sketch. His mind was completely blank, not giving any mind to what he was drawing.

The principal was passing past the classroom and happened to pop her head in. She frowned, expecting to see the teacher but was met with a classroom of students chatting loudly. "Excuse me." She spoke, her high pitched voice causing the chatter to die down a bit. "Where in heaven's name is your teacher?" Only a few students actually gave her a response, the rest all shrugged before turning back to what they had previously been doing.

Dylan didn't care, so he turned back to look at his drawing. That's when he really noticed the flowing of the hair and how crazy it seems. He noticed the prominent freckles on the cheeks and nose. He noticed the eyes. The eyes that seem to hold him in place every time he looks at them.

He had drawn Avonlea Barlowe.