"Luca!"

I groaned, rolling over to bury my face in my pillows, yanking the duvet over my body. I cowered away from my Mother, standing over me with her hands on her hips, wearing a stern, unimpressed expression. "I'm getting up." I drawled sleepily, snuggling into the covers. She was clearly not convinced and proceeded to pull the duvet off the bed, revealing my bare chest. "Mama!" I complained loudly.

She rolled her eyes, and started yelling at me in Dutch, and I eventually rolled out of bed, groaning tiredly.

My Mum finally left me alone to get ready and I resisted the urge to crawl straight back into the comfort of my warm bed. I pulled on a pair of baggy jeans, my football jersey - a bold number seven printed on the back - and a pair of boots. After running my fingers through my dishevelled black hair, and brushing my teeth, I headed downstairs.

My Mother started shouting at me in Dutch again, scolding me for being late as I pretended to listen. After stuffing some toast into the toaster and promising my Dad I'd drive my sister to school, I left.

Vera was my ten year old sister. She looked a lot like me, sharing the same silky black hair and copper eyes. But she smiled more. She rambled on about a random movie the entire car journey and I - like always - ignored her. After pulling up outside her school, she scrambled over, gave me a peck on the cheek and clambered out.

I waited until she disappeared past the gates and into the school building before driving off, heading round the corner towards my own school. The car park was almost full by the time I arrived, cars sleeping in their spaces and bikes whizzing past to secure a spot in the bicycle rack. I noticed just how late I was upon glancing at my watch,

and quickly grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.

I made it to English just in time, sighing in relief as I slid into my seat and plucked my books out of my backpack. "Congratulations, your Mum didn't slaughter you this morning." Tommy scoffed from beside me as he annotated his copy of 'The Tempest', highlighting quotes.

"She was pretty close." I whispered back. "I always forget how much better swearing in Dutch is." I chuckled, flicking the play open to the right scene as I scanned the text quickly to try and catch up.

I used to slip into Dutch a lot, unable to help it with my fuzzy mind, a murky mixture of two languages. Eventually, I managed to grasp onto English a lot better, shoving Dutch into a dusty corner of my mind. Now, my thick lingering accent was my last remaining tie to the language I once cherished.

"Hey, Daya said her parents are gonna be away for the little longer." Tommy muttered quietly in my ear, his eyes glued to the teacher to avoid suspicion.

"Okay?"

"She's throwing a party tomorrow night. You gonna be there?"

Friday night was never a question of what to do, but rather, what party to go to. And Daya knew how to throw pretty awesome parties. "Yeah, sure. But promise me something?"

His brows twitched up in surprise, "What?"

"Just make sure I don't sleep with Sam? I can't be going back to that fucking clinic."

"You can't control yourself?"

"When I'm drunk, it always seems like a better idea than it is." I shrugged.

Tommy rolled his eyes, his lips curled up into an amused grin, "Just try and shove her towards Phoenix. She might actually consider him."

The lesson dragged by agonisingly slowly, full of yawns and a desperate longing to return to my cozy, warm bed, waiting patiently for me at home. Eventually, lunch rolled around, but it felt like a blur around me. We ate, talked, discussed Daya's party and then headed to our afternoon lessons.

Those were just as painful, but luckily the end of the day was approaching fast. After spending an hour flirting with my hot lab partner, the final bell rang and I bolted out of the chemistry room as fast as I could.

It was raining heavily, coming down in thick sheets, like bullets bombarding the parking lot. But I wasn't focusing on the rain, I was focusing on the crowd of laughing kids, huddled around one of the bike racks. My curiosity got the best of me and I glided over, shoving past the swarm of murmuring students to catch a glimpse a what was so interesting.

I gulped once I saw the mess that people found so amusing. One of the bikes had been wrecked, clearly done intentionally. It was dented, the metal twisted and bruised, the seat hanging off, the tyres punctured and deflated. And all I could think was, why are they laughing? It made me sick; it made me angry.

And my anger only grew when I saw a white haired boy, stood by the crowd, his eyes wide and laced with despair, his platinum hair wet and clinging to his forehead. It didn't take me more than a couple of seconds to gather that it was in fact his bike that had been destroyed. "Fuck." I muttered under my breath.

I didn't hesitate to elbow my way to the front of the crowd, finding a sense of bitter satisfaction in the way they all silenced, watching me expectantly. I tugged my hood over my head as the rain pelted down on the grey car park. I grabbed the bike, pulling it out of the bike rack before grabbing Theodore's sleeve, yanking both him and the bike towards my car.

He followed with a blank expression, shivering from head to toe, his eyes wide and scared. People were watching my every move as I unlocked my car and tossed the bike in before locking up the back. I then jerked my head towards the passenger seat, signalling to Theodore to get in. After clambering into the driver's side and shaking my hair like a wet dog, I turned towards the other boy.

"You d-didn't have to do that." He whispered, his head lolled forward, his shoulders hunched. He was refusing to look at me, his eyes trained strictly on his lap, where he was twisting and fiddling with his fingers.

"People can be dickheads." I said simply. The car felt oddly quiet, considering it was being attacked with rain, hammering against the metal of the car, like a loud, constant thumping begging to be acknowledged.

"I-I can walk home." He offered shyly, still reluctant to look at me.

I scoffed, "Het regent pijpenstelen."

And then, he finally looked at me, glancing up through long, wet lashes, his emerald eyes glistening. Little droplets of sparkling rain were cascading down his cheeks, but I could still tell he was crying. Not noticeably, just the shining of his sharp eyes, full of unshed tears. "W-What does that mean?"

I smiled reassuringly, "It's, uh...a saying, what'd you call it? An idiom?" I asked, glancing out at the stormy, grey sky, "Like the Dutch equivalent of saying that it's raining cats and dogs." I explained, "Anyway..." I glanced back at him, "You're not walking in this. Where d'you live?"

He looked ready to retaliate and assure me that he could walk, but after catching a glimpse of my serious expression, he probably decided that arguing was pointless. So, he merely smiled gratefully and told me to take him to the pet shop. "I-I'm working today." He shrugged.

I nodded, strapping on my seatbelt before starting the car and pulling out of the car park. "So, it's like a family business, right?" I asked casually once we were on the road, my windshield wipers working furiously against the rain.

"Yeah." He nodded. "M-Me, my parents, and my b-brother."

"That's sweet." I noted. "D'you live far from the store?"

"Not too far." He glanced back down at his hands.

"How're you gonna get home?" I interrogated.

He spared me a side glance and fixed on a light smile. "It's okay, I-I can walk."

I sighed, nodding before twisting around to briefly examine his battered bike. "Who did this?"

"I-I don't know." He lied. I could tell he was lying by the stiffening of his shoulders and the shift of his eyes to study the scenery zooming past the foggy window. But I didn't try and push.

It wasn't long before we got to the store and we both hopped out. We tried to shield our faces from the rain as I pulled his silver bike out of my car and placed it on the ground in front of him. He smiled brightly up at me, despite his bloodshot eyes and clear desire to break down crying. "Th-Thanks, Luca." He shouted over the pounding of the rain in our ears.

I smiled and nodded curtly, "It's no problem." I responded. Neither of us said anything for a minute, and yet, it didn't strike me as odd to be stood out here, voluntarily getting soaked. "Hey, if you need a lift to school or anything-?"

"It's okay." He cut me off. "I-I can walk." He promised. "I-I just...you're not w-what everyone makes you out to be." He admitted bashfully, "S-So, uh...thanks. I really appreciate this."

And with one last shy smile, he grabbed his bike and ran for cover. I stayed for a moment or two, leant against my car as I watched him throw his already beaten up bike to the ground and fumble with his keys to unlock the store. After he flicked the closed sign to open, he disappeared, and I realised what I was doing; stood in the freezing air, subject to the torture of the British weather, getting drenched for no reason whatsoever, aside from making sure Theodore was okay.

What was wrong with me?