_______________________________

If never is forever,

Then what does that mean?

When I say I'll never be able to follow my dreams,

Does it really mean that I'll forever be chasing them?

My mother once said,

"Never doesn't necessarily mean forever"

And I wish that were true

That forever feeling empty

Didn't equate to never being full

If the birds never sing,

Tell me, will it not be quiet forever?

If the sun never shines,

Won't it be forever dark?

If I am never really being myself,

Then will I forever be in my father's shadow?

_______________________________

I close the cover of my leather journal, my eyes traveling slowly to the sky. The sky here has always been gray, a blue jay or two flying around the small, but prestigious college by the name of St. Sinclair University. My hazel eyes glance at a lone chipmunk scurrying up a tree and I sigh wistfully, gathering my belongings, and head for my first class of the day, the bittersweet scent of the humidity clinging to my nostrils to the point where I can taste it.

Today is my first day as a college student, a law student to be exact, a long and tedious path that both my parents have travelled. Hopefully my younger brother will have the blessing to take the road less travelled while I strive for a level of excellence— no, of perfection that's been instilled in me since birth.

Charles Adrian King, eldest son of the famous Ava and James King. Son of the man who wrote an eighth of the law textbooks I will be forced to read, many boring chapters that will be forced down my throat just to regurgitate and digest again in an endless cycle. Heir to the major King law firm that I don't want to even step foot in, but that's not who I am.

I'm just Charlie.

Despite this fact, I still walk to biochemistry, a hardcover copy of this flawed country's constitution weighing down my backpack like a ton of bricks. Despite this fact, I find myself to be one of the first students in the class and I slump down in my seat before remembering that "I'm a King and should conduct myself as such" before straightening my spine, my nose buried in a book before I feel the presence of someone else.

My hazel eyes look up to meet warm brown ones and a young man with dark brown hair styled in a slicked back undercut comes into my peripherals. A black shirt covers his person, along with black jeans and a black leather jacket which is covered in patches. I continue to watch him as he sits down and lets his bag drop haphazardly onto the floor and lounges in the chair. He looks my appearance over after some time and finally decides to introduce himself.

"Hey," He extends a hand lazily. "I'm Ethan."

I shake his hand firmly. "Charlie."

👀