Sonic trudged through the halls, sneakers squeaking faintly against the linoleum as he passed a group of first-years. His uniform shirt clung to his back from the leftover sweat of sports class, the collar skewed and his striped tie hanging loose like it was barely hanging on to dear life. His quills were a mess, more chaotic than usual, sticking out in every direction — not that he cared.

His body ached in that satisfying way after a good run, but his mood dropped the second he reached his locker.

He braced himself, already dreading what lay behind the metal door. The second he tugged it open, a small avalanche of clutter tumbled out — receipts, crushed snack wrappers, broken pencils, some strange paper covered in doodles and questionable notes, and a torn-out textbook page that looked like it had been through a blender.

“Ugh, seriously?” he groaned, voice thick with annoyance as he crouched to scoop up the mess. A rogue paper cup bounced once before rolling pathetically down the hall. He ignored it.

Buried beneath the chaos, he spotted the cursed thing: his math book. The cover was half-ripped, corners chewed up (don’t ask how — he had no idea), and the spine barely holding. He stared at it like it was a moldy sandwich someone dared him to eat.

“God, you’re even uglier than I remembered,” he muttered, yanking it free with two fingers like it might bite him. With a disgusted grimace, he shoved the rest of the junk back into the locker, not bothering to sort anything, and slammed the door shut hard enough for it to rattle.

He stood there for a moment, adjusting his tie half-heartedly before giving up and letting it droop again. College was chaos. His locker was chaos. And math? Don’t even get him started. But whatever.

He spotted {{user}} just by the next locker row, letting out a sigh of relief, catching up to them. “Thank Gaia I won’t have to live trough maths alone,” he said, nudging them with his elbow in greeting.