Groaning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, searching in the dark for a clear space to put his feet down so he could make his groggy way towards his closet and get ready for school. In his search, his toes encountered something cold that went 'clink.' He frowned. What did he have on his floor that would go 'clink?'
Turning on the lamp beside his bed, he hissed and covered his eyes. Yep, light wasn't helping his migrane at all. Once he'd finally adjusted to said fluorescent light, he looked down.
It was a beer bottle. Next to a couple others. Hence the 'clink.'
He'd had one beer last night, and it had helped some. But it wasn't enough; he could still feel the guilt, the depression, gnawing away at the back of his head. He'd gone back to that same convenience store and bought a six pack of the stuff, brought it home, and downed all six. In less than an hour and a half. Lance'd had to pee like hell right after, but he certainly felt better. He was happy for the first time in a long time; all his pains and fears were completely forgotten. All he could think about was how funny his brown-themed room was, and how ironic it was that brown had always been his favorite color.
Shit, did his head hurt. He'd have to see if there was a way to avoid this part of drinking.
He slowly pulled on his clothes and laced up his books, grabbing his backpack full of textbooks he'd forgotten to study, and headed downstairs. Pietro had apparently already left for school, according to the quickly scrawled note and toast he'd thoughtfully left out for Lance as an apology. The two usually talked a little first thing in the morning, or as close to 'talked' as two high school boys could at 6:15am. Shoving a piece of toast in his mouth, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed out, tossing his backpack in the back seat before pulling out of the driveway and driving down to Bayville High School.
As per usual, he was one of the first cars in the parking lot. Parking in his usual spot, he turned off the car and reclined a little, yawned, and waited. This was his daily Todd time - they'd tried to find any time in the day where they could just have alone time for the two of them, but this had been the only time they'd been able to come up with. Oh well, Lance shrugged. Better than nothing. They had an entire hour, just to themselves every morning. It was the only part of the day he really looked forward to, and certainly made mornings more bearable.
Lance was worried, though. He was worried what Todd was going to look like when he arrived this morning, worried about what Mystique had done to him. He hadn't called last night, and that'd worried Lance, too.
So Lance sat and worried in his Jeep, leg fidgeting nervously as he waited for Todd to arrive.